


The Profound Bond

by Serie11



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alastair sucks, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternative Universe - FBI, Bottom Castiel, Cas is BAMF, Case Fic, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), Namely all the females in SPN who died or were randomly abandoned, Non-Con not between Dean and Cas, Overprotective Dean, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape and Underage in the past, Slow Burn, Supernatural creatures exist, Top Dean, Torture, Underage Prostitution, Women of Supernatural, too much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 213,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serie11/pseuds/Serie11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is an FBI agent from the SPN unit, who professionally hunt all over the USA with encouragement from the government. Everyone knows that angels exist, and while he had never laid eyes on one himself, Dean grudgingly acknowledges their existence. Until overnight, his world is turned upside down when a garrison of angels descend on the FBI headquarters in Phoenix, Arizona. Partnered with the arrogant and socially oblivious angel Castiel, Dean must get past his ingrained fear of the supernatural, and the painful memories that Castiel pulls to the surface. But when the angels appear to have a secret agenda, Dean's budding relationship with Castiel is put to the test, and the two of them have to choose what's most important to them - family, or duty.</p><p>Based on the video by <a href="http://cinderfels.tumblr.com/post/46200097093/the-profound-bond-a-new-romantic-comedy">cinderfels</a> on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Scene is Set

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the awesome video made by [cinderfels](http://cinderfels.tumblr.com/post/46200097093/the-profound-bond-a-new-romantic-comedy) on tumblr. You should all go say hello to her!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing, unfortunately. Everything belongs to Kripke, and I'm only here to help with the deancas feels, since the show is so unforgiving on that point.

Sipping his coffee, Dean turns a page of the newspaper he has in front of him. There are at least ten others in a stack beside his toast, and while Charlie might sing the praises of the internet, Dean prefers searching for anything unusual the old-fashioned way. Even if it takes longer.

Flipping the last page over, Dean quickly scans it. After making sure there is nothing there, he places it on the pile next to him. There is nothing there, which means that his thirteen subscriptions to various papers from all around the country that had come in today had been a bust. And he had spent nearly an hour looking through them.

Checking his watch, he jumps slightly at the time. Dean grabs his keys, checks the knives and various lock-picking agents he had stashed about his body to make sure they are there, and leaves his apartment, putting all of the security in place. No matter how many times Krissy or Annie tried to convince him to get his own place, Dean likes his apartment just fine. It isn’t small, but it isn’t large either, and he still gets all the sounds of other people moving about the building. It makes him remember that other people are out there, just living their lives. It reminds him of why he does what he does. That, plus he has a good view of Phoenix’s downtown, with the mountains in the background.

Driving the Impala down the streets through the early morning traffic is as annoying as ever, though Dean reins in his patience enough that he doesn’t just get out of the car and arrest the driver in front of him. The three times he had done it, Rufus hadn’t been impressed, and he hadn’t been assigned a job for a month each time. Besides, being an idiot isn’t a state offense. Although it should be, Dean muses darkly as the car cuts him off _again_.

Parking the Impala in the secure parking below the office is as trying, like usual. These bends shouldn’t be that sharp. Just because his baby is longer than most cars didn’t mean they had to go and put in turns that a Prius would have trouble getting around.

Resolving to take it up with Rufus again, Dean smiles at Krissy on the way through the doors.

“Good morning Krissy. We enjoying being here this early?”

Dean gets a groan in response. Really, being an intern sucked, because you had to get here when the first worker arrived, and Dean swore sometimes that Rufus and Charlie never left. One of them is always here, sipping at their coffee or hacking into some database from some country Dean’s never heard of. He’s pretty sure it’s illegal, but some advantages of working for the FBI is that you can bend the rules sometimes. Or most of the time, Dean’s pretty sure in Charlie’s case. He didn’t think that donation by that selfish millionaire bastard looked legit. But at least she’s ‘using her powers for good’ as stated by Charlie herself. Dean had seen Rufus make a face in the background, but Garth and Ash had just laughed. Dean is pretty sure that Charlie and Ash had a whole ‘we hackers stick together’ thing going on, but you could never be sure what was going through either of their heads.

Victor and Annie are already sitting at their desks, and Dean can hear typing sounds coming from the computer lab, so Charlie is probably here as well.

Jo bounds over, giving Dean his second coffee in an hour, and then walks around to the others, giving them their coffee as well.

Logging on is as tedious as normal, and by the time he has brought up the documents from yesterday, Ash and Garth stumble in. Dean has no idea how either of them had gotten qualified enough to work here, but it probably has something to do with Ash’s computer skills and the way that Garth seems to be unable to die. Seriously, the dude must be the luckiest one on the planet.

Filling out reports is the bane of Dean’s existence, but to work here with all of its benefits and steady pay, it has to be done.

“So here is where you fill out how many people were affected by whatever nasty we killed. It’s purely your opinion, but it helps the high ups gauge the damage bill and how much we get paid.”

Jo nods, soaking up the information. She is nearly ready to become a solid member of the team, and stop fetching them coffee in the morning. Then that will be Krissy’s job. Dean smiles slightly at the thought.

“This is where you fill in how much ammo was used, or if you broke any equipment, so it can be replaced. How much holy water, was there any one time items used, stuff like that. If anyone was killed while we were on case we put their names here, so their families can get some compensation. If any hunters were also on the case, then we state that too.”

“Like mum?”

“Yeah, like Ellen. This is where you put how much you spent while out, on motels mainly.” Dean continues to lecture Jo about the ins and outs of the forms, letting his mind wander while he does it. It is a mind numbing task, and he can see Jo struggling to memorize all the form’s requirements.

“Don’t sweat it. If you need any help filling out the forms, then you can ask any of us and we’ll show you. It took us all a few months to get them as well. When are you going for your FBI normal unit training?”

“In a few weeks. My God, I’m so freaked out about it.”

“Are you following that schedule I set out for you?” It included gym hours and what to work on, what she should be eating and some pre-studying. “It should have you well prepared.”

“Yeah, I’m following it. It seems a bit extreme though.”

“Jo, that’s nothing compared to what you’ll be going through in a month.”

“Great,” Jo mutters.

“I remember my course. It must have been the worst six months of my life.” Annie, always one to put a positive spin on things, cuts in from her desk. Jo pales slightly. It is a well-known and well-played upon joke that Jo is dreading her FBI training unit, but everyone in the office silently supports her campaign.

“You’ll do fine. Ignore the rest of them, they’re just giving you a hard time.” Jo raises an eyebrow at Dean, as he’s usually the first one to give her grief. He shoots back a ‘shut it’ expression and she smiles.

“Whatever you say Dean.”

Jo bounds off before Dean can say anything else on the subject. Sighing quietly to himself and returning to his task, he set his shoulders and worked through reports for the rest of the day.

Nearing the time where Dean would start to consider calling it a day, Ash comes up with more paper stacked in his arms. Dean almost gets out his lighter and sets the pile alight before Ash even says anything about what it is, but he restrains himself.

“What is it?”

“Rufus just gave me some stuff for you to fill out on how defensible Phoenix is from aerial attack.” Ash must have seen Dean’s face, because he nods. “I have no idea why they want this, but Rufus says that it comes from high up on the food chain, if you know what I mean. He also said that he’d like it as soon as you could complete it.”

“Why me?” Dean mutters under his breath as he takes the stack from Ash. He knows why. The others might be better at researching, or getting information from people, but Dean is good at fighting, and he knows Phoenix better than the back of his hand.

Dean is no stranger to staying back at the office for late nights, but when Charlie leaves and he can hear Krissy’s snores coming from the room outside, he decides to go home and sleep off these ridiculous questions. Aerial attack? What the fuck? Deciding that he doesn’t want to contemplate planes or how his stomach wants to empty itself just by thinking about them, he puts the papers in one of his pockets for unfinished work next to his computer, logs off, picks up his stuff and wakes Krissy.

“Whaa?” She slurs out. Dean looks at the clock on the wall behind her. Just past two. He’s had later nights.

“Come on kid-o. I’ll drop you off at your house.”

Supporting Krissy slightly as they walk down to the car park, Dean opens the passenger door to the Impala and sits Krissy down in it. Making a mental note to tease her about drooling on his car tomorrow, he cruises through the almost empty streets towards where he knows Krissy lives. She wakes up by the time that he had arrive at her house, and she grins at him with a whispered “Thanks,” before she gets and walks towards her front door.

Watching to make sure that she unlocks the door and is inside before he pulls away, Dean tries not to think of his bed and his early call time in the morning. Sometimes he does think that it would be easier if he just slept at the office, but he’s also certain that if a room where you could sleep in the office was supplied, Rufus would never leave and Charlie would stay most of the time as well.

Dumping his bag on the kitchen counter when he gets home, he checks his calendar for tomorrow, and groans when he sees that today is a designated Sam-calling day. Sam would never let him hear the end of it after he’s so strict about their schedule.

Although since he never missed a call, Sam would probably be freaking out. Looking at the digital clock that is on the stove, Dean reluctantly admits that twenty to three isn’t an appropriate time to be calling anyone.

Stripping off his clothes, Dean checks his alarm and tumbles into the embrace of sleep.

~*~*~*~

_Beep beep beep beep bee-_

Dean slams his hand down on the clock, stopping the most annoying sound in all of existence mid-tone. Getting up at 6:40 meant that he had somehow gotten his four hours of sleep in, but it didn’t feel like it. Dean could feel the day of doing nothing put paperwork weighing on him, and he hopes that something will come up today that he can just get in and kill.

But first things first. He showers, eats a few eggs and dresses. Walking down the flights of stairs, he holds down the 1 on his phone, speed-dialing Sam.

“Dean? Are you okay?” Sam’s voice comes through after the first ring, and Dean wonders if his younger brother has been clutching onto the phone waiting for him to call.

“Yeah Sam, I’m fine. I just forgot to call yesterday. The asshats at the office thought it would be a good idea to laden me down with every form under the sun.”

Dean hears Sam’s sigh of relief, muffled as it s. When he speaks next, the younger Winchester’s voice is light and teasing. “Wow. Mr Never Let A Week Pass Without A Call forgets? Is the world ending? Has Phoenix burned down?”

Dean smiles at his brother’s gentle ribbing. “Whatever. Bitch.”

All he gets is a “Jerk,” in response.

Putting the phone on speaker when he gets into the Impala, Dean asks his normal questions about Sam’s week. Sam, geek that he is, is all too happy to rant about his latest case – some business who is suing after a poltergeist tore up a month’s worth of goods and nearly destroyed the shop. As it is only a small business, apparently this is a big thing, but Dean doesn’t know enough about Sam’s lawyer stuff to really understand what his brother is going on about. He just listens to the rise and fall of his voice, and basks in the certainty that his younger brother is safe.

“Are you even listening?”

“‘Course Sammy. Some business person is trying to blame some gardener for disturbing a grave in an attempt to get money out of his employers. You add anything to the archives this week, or are you too engrossed in your gardener hate story?”

Dean can nearly hear the blush that comes over the silence in the phone. “No, I’m trying to prove that the gardener knew nothing about the grave and rebutting Adam’s arguments. The kid’s pretty quick.”

“Well get onto it. The government doesn’t pay you to translate century old grimoires for you to sit around on your ass and do nothing.”

“I’ll get onto it Dean.”

“Good. I hate paging through those horrible old books.”

While he listens to his brother go off on a tangent as to how useful those ‘horrible old books’ are to his work, Dean parks the Impala and makes his way up to the fifteenth level.

“Sounds great Sammy. Look, I’m at work, so – ”

“Ring if I want to, if not there’s the scheduled one at the end of the week. I know Dean. I’ve got this.”

“Okay then Sam. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye Dean.”

At the click of the phone that signals the end of the call, Dean lowers the phone from his ear and nods to Krissy at the desk outside the door. Passing inside, Garth and Ash both say good morning and Dean greets Annie and Jo before sitting down at his desk.

He’s just filling in the last of the forms on the ridiculous aerial questionnaire when Victor walks in.

“Anyone up for a good-old wolf hunt?”

There’s a pause as everyone raises their heads, then a loud chorus of ‘Yes’s and ‘You bet’s and Dean’s yell of “You’re not killing anything without me!”

Everyone looks over at him questioningly, he shrugs. “I’ve been itching for something to hunt for the last week.”

“I got a tip-off from Caleb of a pack of werewolves over in Virginia. It’s probably going to need all hands on deck.”

Dean is already heading over to Rufus’s office, report in hand. When he knocks, he only has to wait a second for the “Who is it?”

“Dean.”

“I hope you have that report,” is the only answer he receives.

Taking that as permission to come in, Dean opens the door and hands the report to the leader of the SPN team. “I guessed some of the heights of the buildings, but it should be mostly accurate. No idea why you wanted an aerial attack plan though. Who’s going to want to send planes against Phoenix?

“It’s not your place to question the orders boy,” Rufus’ gruff voice says.

“Victor just came in with a tip-off from Caleb about a werewolf pack in Virginia. He said that he’ll need all hands, so everyone’s packing up so we can get ourselves some wolf skins.”

“Fine. Just remember to get some blood if you can. If Pamela hears that you went up against a pack of wolves without it she’ll have all our skins. But don’t touch it – I don’t need you turning into a werewolf.”

Dean winces at the image of the angry psychic. “Noted. I’ll tell the others.”

Rufus turns his attention to the reports, a dismissal if there ever was one. Turning, he leaves the office.

“Did we get an a-okay from the boss?” Annie asks.

“Yeah, but he said that we need to get some werewolf blood for Pamela.”

Annie grimaces and Dean can basically see the thought process of thinking about the psychic. “Yeah, okay. You wanna call up Sam, see if he wants to tango with some werewolves as an after work recreational activity?”

“Yeah, I was thinking of calling him up. He’d only have a short drive, as opposed to our trek. I know that he gets sick of transcribing all his texts.”

“I thank God for his translation of texts every day,” Charlie shouts from across the room.

“Do we have a more definite place than just Virginia?

“Blacksburg.”

“Sounds good. We leave after lunch?”

There is another chorus, this time of ‘Sure’s and ‘Yep’s.

Dean goes and reviews the path he’ll have to take to get to Blacksburg. Realising that they will be gone for over a week, more if Sam convinces him to come up to DC with him, he says his goodbyes and travels back to his apartment.

Cleaning out his fridge of all the perishables, he carries them down the hall to Chuck’s apartment.

Knocking, he waits for the short and usually scruffy man to open the door.

“Who is – oh, Dean, hey. Not expecting you to come round, is something up?”

“We’re heading down to Virginia to get rid of a werewolf pack. Can you eat my perishables?”

“Yeah, yeah sure, I can do that.” Dean smiles slightly at Chuck’s extended sentences. He had saved Chuck from the depths of a cave where a demonic cult that hadn’t been fake had been preparing to sacrifice him. Taking care of the cult and saving a civilian in the process was usually something that Dean is happy about, but when it turned out that Chuck lived down the hall from him he resigned himself to Chuck’s almost hero-worship that he had to put up with every time he visited. It is useful, however, to have someone to watch his apartment, grab his mail and get rid of his food whenever he had to go away suddenly. As Chuck knew about the supernatural world that most people are oblivious to, he didn’t have to hide or explain his strange hours, what he did for a job and why he is away so much, like he would have had to do if he trusted someone who didn’t know about the supernatural world to do the things that Chuck did.

“Can you get my mail and watch the apartment?”

“Yep, sure, no problems.”

“Awesome. I’ll see you ‘round Chuck.”

The shorter man nods and closes the door behind Dean as he leaves.

Dean walks back into his apartment, changes into flannel and jeans, and set up the security, grabbing a few hundred dollars in cash and some of his personal weapons including the Knife, before closing up.

The ride through the city is nice, quieter than usual, and Dean soaks up the suburban sprawl, since he wouldn’t see it again for another week. Parking the Impala outside instead of the secure parking, as they are leaving in less than an hour, Dean catches the lift up to the SPN floor of the high-rise building. He is greeted with the comforting sounds of arsenals being restocked, silver bullets being checked and wolfsbane being dealt out into zip-lock bags.

Dean grabs a velvet pack of 50 silver bullets and tucks it into his coat pocket, taking his Glock and sheathing it into the holster at the small of his back. Taking a shotgun and another handheld pistol, he looks around to see everyone ready. Leading is his area of expertise when Rufus isn’t around, and everyone is looking at him to get this show on the road.

“Everyone got everything?” They all nod. “Charlie, extra silver bullets, silver knives and the silver swords?”

“Yes, yes and yes.”

“Annie, we got enough wolfsbane?”

“Enough to put their noses out of commission for the next few months.”

“Victor, the copy of the report Caleb gave to everyone?”

Victor silently hands out the pieces of paper.

“Ash, directions to Blacksburg?”

“Yes I do Dean.”

“Good. Everyone choose your cars, and wave goodbye to our interns.” The hunters all turn to Krissy and Jo and wave.

“This is shit. I should be allowed to come.” Jo complains.

“When you get your training over and done with Jo. You get a break from us, you should be happy.”

Both of the interns roll their eyes.

Charlie and Garth end up in the Impala, with Victor and Annie riding with Ash.

Choosing a cassette tape at random, Dean grins when Metallica came on. Charlie rolls her eyes and Garth just put on his sunglasses and was soon snoring in the backseat.

Having Ash’s monster four-wheel drive constantly in front of him limits Dean’s viewpoint of the road, but he doesn’t mind all that much. With his music around him, the soft sounds of Garth snoring and Charlie’s head on the window, looking out as the city boundaries slowly turn to countryside, Dean lets himself feel a moment of peace.

~*~*~*~

It’s on the fourth morning that they arrive at Blacksburg. Sam’s waiting at one of the local diners, backpack at his feet, and each partnership takes a table to themselves, not giving any hints that they all know each other. That way if one of them gets in trouble, they can have back up without the assailant knowing that they have back up.

Charlie sits with Dean, sliding into the seat beside him and opposite Sam. On the cases that she takes, which aren’t many, Dean and Charlie partner up. Victor and Annie work together, with Annie being one of the hunters that took out the wendigo that ate Victor’s mother, and offered him a position in the SPN unit if he could cope with the training program. Victor is tough, and it surprised nobody that he aced the training.

Garth and Ash team up because no one else could stand working with their eclectic personalities for long. They complement each other, and Garth’s agreeable attitude went well with Ash’s laid back personality. That, plus the fact that both just hid their hard working skills on Saturn, where only they could find them, and only if they wanted to. Dean is just glad that apparently they are easy to get to, since switching between hard working and taking it easy happens quickly and often.

Dean prefers to work alone, or with his brother, but Charlie isn’t a bad alternative.

“Sam! Always good to see you little bro. How’s the family holding up?”

“Hi Sam,” Charlie adds.

“Hey guys. Jess is good, only a few months to go before we get our little one.”

“Is she being more annoying than usual? I told you she’d get more annoying than usual.”

“Dean, I’m pretty sure she has a right to be annoying! Far out, she _is_ pregnant.”

Dean shrugs his shoulders slightly at Charlie’s comment. “Maybe. We can only know if he tells us.”

Sam sighs. “Yeah, she is getting more…” He trails off, at a loss for words.

“More Jess?”

“Yeah, more Jess.”

“You guys know that that makes no sense right?”

The brothers shrug, and Charlie shakes her head.

“Hello, what can I get you fine people this morning?” The waitress comes up and gets out her notebook and pen, reading to take down their orders.

“Coffee, black.”

“A Greek salad and a glass of water please.”

“Mocha with chocolate thanks.”

The waitress nods and goes to talk to Annie and Victor.

“Sam, I just want to thank you for translating all the texts that you send over. Seriously, I love you for it.”

Sam rubs the back of his neck, smiling slightly. “It’s Kevin that does most of the work really. But thanks, I’ll tell him that our efforts are going to good use.”

“Oh they are. A couple weeks ago, Garth and Ash were up in Wyoming, and they…”

Dean lets the story fade into the background, instead looking out the window and watching the people pass by. There is a man across the street, wearing a tan trench coat, who is just standing there and watching the diner with his hands in his pockets. Dean narrows his eyes and is about to say something when a truck trundles by, and by the time Dean can see the other side of the street the man is gone. Pushing it out of his thoughts, he turns back to the conversation to hear Sam asking about the werewolves.

Dean hands him a copy of Caleb’s report, and looks over it again himself. In the two full moon’s before the cycle starts again tonight, there have been quite a few killings and people found with their hearts missing. Then it went quite last month, and Caleb comments that he thinks it’s because they just turned people last month. He estimates there to be somewhere between 20 and 40 werewolves – not something to laugh at. In fact, Dean wonders if there are any hunters that are in the area that can help out.

Sam whistles lowly. “Well I get why you called me. This is some intense stuff Dean.”

“You can say that again,” Dean mumbles over the rim of his coffee, flashing the waitress a smile as she puts down Sam’s health crap and Charlie’s nearly hot chocolate. “You still in?”

Sam looks at him like he’s crazy, so Dean takes that as a yes. “Just checking. You know, with the whole father thing.”

“We’ve faced worse.”

“Not much worse. Besides, no judgement here.”

Sam raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything else, just stabs his salad.

Dean drinks the rest of his coffee in one go, and places the mug down on the table next to him. “So what’s our game plan?”

Sam looks around at the other teams, with their heads bent together, drinking their respective beverages. “Don’t you want to wait to talk until we’re all together?”

“We talk about the problem separately so we all get different ideas, and then we come together and combine what we’ve come up with so that we get the best outcome possible. It was my idea,” Charlie unabashedly preens, and Dean huffs out a breath of laughter.

“’S true. She came up with it.”

Sam looks suitably impressed, and Dean leans back in the booth, stretching to get the cramps from driving all night out of his back.

“We’re probably going to be up all night for the next three or so nights, so I suggest that we move to a nocturnal schedule. We’ve already started, or Ash and I did, last night when we drove all night to get here, but you guys are going to have to make yourselves sleep today so you don’t fall down from exhaustion tonight.” Sam nods at Dean’s words and Charlie groans lowly.

“Great,” she mutters.

“Then we’ll have to find where the werewolves are hiding out. If they know if they’re werewolves or not, if they’re together even outside their time of month. And we need to know what they’re planning.”

“That’s a lot of research,” Sam remarks, titling his head.

“We can manage. Anything to add?” Sam and Charlie shake their heads. “Then you ready to go?”

Sam shoves the last of his salad in his mouth while Charlie drinks her mocha. Ash and Garth are still talking, but from their expressions Dean’s going to guess that it’s not about work. Annie and Victor are sitting quietly, finishing their drinks. “Everyone else’s nearly done. I’m gonna go pay.”

Dean stands and weaves between the tables towards the cashier. He flirts with her while he’s paying, and wishes for a second that he wasn’t working a case right now, so he could take the time to get to know these women a bit better. But oh well, he smiles when she wishes him a good day, and waves for Sam and Charlie to follow him out the door, knowing that the others will follow soon enough.

It’s while they’re walking towards the Impala that the girl approaches them. She’s tall, has long dark hair, and walks purposefully up to grab Dean’s arm.

Dean freezes with his hand halfway to the gun tucked into the back of his pants. The only reason he doesn’t draw is because they’re in a street full of civilians, and the girl doesn’t seem to want to kill him. A novelty.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hello,” Dean warily says back.

“Are you one of the hunters?”

This puts all of them on edge, looking at the girl to see how she knows about hunters.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Your car’s the Impala, right?”

When Dean nods slowly, she walks ahead to where she’s parked, opens the door and slides in the back.

When Charlie clears her throat, Sam looks at her. “Okay I know I don’t go on many hunts but is that normal?”

They say “No,” at the same time.

“Just checking,” she mutters.

With nothing else to do, they walk over and get into the Impala as well.

“Well don’t you guys have a hotel or something yet?”

“We only just got here,” Charlie tells her.

“Oh. Then I’d recommend the Red Rose. If you drive two streets up, turn left, and go along that road, you can’t miss it. I’m Madison, by the way.”

Dean looks skeptically at Charlie and Sam when they tell her their names, but he reluctantly offers up his own. She nods and mouths them to herself as if she’s memorizing them. Putting the Impala into drive when Sam pokes him, he grudgingly follows Madison’s directions.

“So how did you know we were hunters?”

“The outfit.” Dean looks at them and realises that they’re all wearing plaid. “The way that you sat with your friends in the diner, and how they’re following us now. I don’t usually see hunters in such big groups, but you definitely need one for all the crap that’s going down in this town in the next few days.”

“What do you know about what’s happening in the next few days?” Sam asks sharply.

Madison laughs. “Honey, I’m a werewolf.”

They’re pulled in at a red light so she gets Dean’s gun pointed at her as well.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you right now,” Dean says, looking at Madison while also keeping an eye on the traffic. When the light changes he reluctantly puts the gun down and continues driving.

“Same reason that you haven’t shot me yet. You need info, I can tell you that info.”

“Why would you want to help us?” Charlie asks, and Sam nods, like it’s an interesting question. “Aren’t they your family?”

Madison spits out the window, not looking where it lands. “I hate what I am. And Bret and his group are no family of mine, although we might be the same species. I don’t want anyone to be killed or changed in this town any longer, and all they’re planning is to do is kill everyone they don’t change. No one should have to live through what I do every month.”

“Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘time of the month’,” Dean muses under his breath. Madison still hears him though, and bears her teeth at the words.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make any werewolf jokes.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Dean says.

“Dean,” Sam hisses at him while shooting him a bitchface. Slowly Charlie and Sam sheath their guns, a gesture of trust.

They park in the parking area of the Red Rose, and Sam goes to book rooms for everyone. Madison leans up against the Impala, and Dean barely contains the urge to tell her to get her paws off his baby before she wishes her paws had been anywhere but. Charlie shoots an amused glance at him and waves over the other two teams as they come into the car park.

While she introduces them and repeats what Madison had told them, Dean waits for Sam to get back from booking the rooms. When he sees the tall shaggy man coming out of the front office, he smiles slightly to himself, before starting to pelt Madison with questions.

She knows most of what the pack is doing, mainly because she had travelled with Bret for a while, hoping that he would embrace her ‘peaceful’ lifestyle and lock himself up every full moon when they turn. As soon as it was apparent that he had no interest in doing that, she learned all she could of what he planned to do and then bailed as soon as she could.

“Unfortunately he had decided that I was his perfect mate, so he continued to chase me all over. I finally was able to throw him here, but I have to stick around, otherwise he’ll know that I left and he’ll be able to trace my scent from where I leave town. So I’m stuck, hoping that he won’t find me but knowing that if I leave he’ll probably find me faster. All the while I get to watch as he builds his army. I know that he has nearly forty wolves under his command, and all of them know what they are. Not many of them are happy about being turned, but when you’ve just undergone your first change and you find an alpha standing over you… Well you need to follow someone for the first year or so. And after that you’re so imprinted that you wouldn’t want to leave anyway. It’s a win-win situation for Bret. The only reason he was going to mess this place up was because I was here, and I was going to leave today, but then I saw that you guys were here, and that you probably needed some info on what he’s planning. So here I am.”

Ash and Garth are nodding, while Annie and Victor look unconvinced. But that was probably just Annie’s old school training and the fact that a wendigo ate Victor’s mother. Dean doesn’t trust her exactly either, but he’s willing to use her for her information, and kill her once all this is over and done with.

“Okay then guys. We should all hit the sack, and be ready to get up around five. That’ll give us time to prepare and go over our strategy plan before heading out before the moon rises.” Sam distributes room keys to everyone, and after everyone assents and starts moving off to their rooms, Dean turns to Sam, only to see him giving her a room key of her own hesitantly. She smiles and thanks him loud enough that Dean can hear, and walks off with a sway to her hips that Dean can’t help but appreciate. He picks up his duffel from the Impala, throwing Charlie’s to her.

“Really? You gave her a room key?” Dean asks as they go past the front lady and towards where the rooms are.

“Well what else was I meant to do?”

“You don’t trust her, do you?”

Sam hesitates before shaking his head and Dean swears silently. “Seriously Sammy? We’re just using her for her information alright?”

Sam looks like he’s going to pull out a bitchface for the second time that day before he nods and starts walking towards the last room in the corridor. Dean knows already that that would be the one that Sam would have picked for them, so he waits next to it while Sam unlocks the door.

Dean puts his bag on one bed while Sam puts his backpack on the other. “You have no idea how hard it was to convince Jess to let me come down here man. I mean, the last hunt I had was a few months ago, but it was also –”

“Before she told you she was pregnant?”

“Yeah. So she thinks that my hunting days are over, and she barely tolerates my translating of the texts. I’m sure that if it didn’t bring in such a healthy pay check she would insist that I quit that too.”

“Well she does have a point you know Sam. She doesn’t want me ringing her and telling her that you’re dead, or something equally nasty.”

Sam scowls a him. “I thought you said no judgement?”

“No judgement, no judgement.” Dean quickly adds. Sam smiles slightly then sighs.

“I don’t want to do this full time, like you do, but I also don’t want to stop. Saving people, hunting things… It’s like the family business, you know? I want to be a part of that, the whole idea, the whole helping thing. But I also want to have a home, a family.”

“You know sooner or later you’re gonna have to pick. And I don’t exactly see you abandoning Jess and the little one for something that you don’t even really want to do.”

Sam sighs. “Yeah, I know. I’m just going to savour each hunt as we do them, you know?”

“We can bond over other things than killing stuff you know.” Dean wanders over to the air conditioning unit, to see if he could get some warmer air going through.

“Probably. It’s just that you’re so far away, we live in DC, and you’re in Phoenix, and you hate planes and I don’t think it’s good to take small children on them, doesn’t that make them sick or something, and agh.” Dean bangs the machine to see if it’s just having a hard time starting up.

“I get what you mean Sam. We’ll work it out, yeah? Just try to get some sleep. I already set the alarm.”

Sam nods and gets under the covers. Dean bangs the air con one more time to see if it’s going to work or not, and when it lets out a puff of air that he’s fairly sure is colder than the room temperature and doesn’t do anything else he gives it up as a lost cause.

Getting under the covers, he hopes he doesn’t dream tonight.

~*~*~*~

_Red black screams chains knife glinting blood fire screams chains screams red blood laughing fear screams screams anger fasinati –_

Dean pulls himself out of the nightmare with a gasp. So much to hope for a peaceful rest. Sam is snoring away, and Dean checks the time. It’s only half past three, so he takes a shower, trying to wash off the sweat he had woken up lying in and the bad feeling at the back of his throat and the guilt weaving itself just under his thoughts. He takes a shaky breath in, and leaves his head under the water of the shower, breathing through his mouth so he could stay there without choking.

When he finally gets out Sam is already up, had probably been woken up by Dean turning the water on. Sam doesn’t say anything, but he casts a knowing look at Dean, and that’s almost worse. Dean wants to forget what happened to him, and having people around who know what his nightmares are about doesn’t make it easier. Still, when he had needed somewhere to crash for a few months while he recovered, Sam had been there, and while he might have pushed and pried and eventually made Dean spill, Dean could see that it was all for his own good in the end. If he hadn’t told anyone, he was fairly sure he would have either cracked or exploded, and he wasn’t sure which one was worse.

Checking to make sure that his anti-possession tattoo is intact always helped, and he examines it before he put his shirt on. Like always, it is set over his heart, without any breaks in the lines. Letting out the breath he’s holding, Dean pulls his shirt on, and proceeds to pack away as much as he could on him – silver bullet stashes everywhere, lock picks, extra small blades in his boots, pockets, in his sleeve, basically getting ready to go and kick some werewolf ass.

Sam comes out, and also proceeds to kit himself out. Dean throws a packet of wolfsbane at him, and checks the time. It was quarter past four, so he guesses that the rest of his team would probably be up.

Victor and Garth are sitting together on their couch when Dean knocks, and he can also hear the shower running. “Are Annie and Charlie up?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t gone over there yet.” Dean nods.

“I’ll go and check then.” The other two nod, and Dean turns to find the two women behind him, looking fully ready to go and face an army of wolves.

“Can you go and check if Madison’s awake?” Dean asks Charlie.

“Sure.”

“Okay guys, regroup in our room when you’re ready okay?” When he gets nods of acknowledgement from them, Dean walks back to his room. Sam has the files up, and is looking over them.

“There’s not really anything we can do until Madison tells us where the pack is meeting tonight, so we’ll have to wait for her.” Dean grunts in response, still not happy about working with a supernatural creature. “And I know how you feel about anything that isn’t human, but I think we can trust her.”

“Why Sam? Why do you think that? We’ve known her for under twelve hours. How is that any base on which to trust someone?”

“When she was telling her story… I don’t know. There was something in her eyes, and you know that I used a few of my court tricks to trip up someone when they’re lying, and she passed every one, even when I just made them into normal questions. She wasn’t lying Dean, and I think she really wants her stalker out of the picture.”

Dean sighs. “Well you’re the one with the logic of a lawyer behind you, so whatever. I still don’t want to be working with her though. And I know that some of the others don’t want to be either.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing that she’s human ninety per cent of the time then. Just pretend that she’s another one of the people that you need to save. She has a crazed pack of werewolves about to go after her Dean – how much more do you need?”

Charlie and Madison choose that moment to walk in the room. While Sam calls her over to the table to discuss the where’s and how’s and when’s of this werewolf pack, Charlie comes and sits next to Dean.

“Do you have all your gear packed?”

“Yeah, and I checked that everyone else does too. We’re ready to go and make Pamela happy.”

“Good. You know she calls every time I decide to do something that she doesn’t approve of? I swear, she’s more tuned into our lives than some of us are. I’m pretty sure Missouri makes her do it, since she’s always so tart on the phone, but that could be because there we’re on equal ground. Without me looking at her, she doesn’t have to think about what she’s doing, and can psychic up however she likes.”

Charlie raised her eyebrows, and thankfully decides not to ask _what_ exactly Dean had been thinking of doing when Pamela calls. Thank God for small mercies.

When Annie, Victor, Garth and Ash come in, looking armed to the teeth, Dean smiles. Sam looks up, and Madison sneezes repeatedly. Dean supposes that the wolfsbane is doing weird stuff to her nose.

“Okay guys, Madison has been telling me where the werewolves meet up, where they change and where she thinks they’re going to attack tonight.”

“Can we shoot her now?”

Madison swallows but otherwise makes no sound.

Sam looks impatient. “No, there’s a door that she has to open for us. She’s coming along, and no one is allowed to shoot her!”

There’s an awkward shuffling, and Annie murmurs, “Sorry,” under her breath for asking if she could kill Madison. Dean isn’t sure if she’s apologizing to him or the werewolf.

“The warehouse where they gather to change would be my best bet of where to corner them.” Sam points to a place on the map, and everyone crowds around. While everyone looks, Dean studies it for any other getaways that could be used. He had already looked and realised that this location would definitely be best.

“Okay guys. Annie and Victor, you’re with Sam, Charlie and I. Garth and Ash, you’ll wait here and here,” Dean tells them, pointing at different places on the map, “And shoot anything furry that tries to escape. Cover the area in wolfsbane so they’ll be disorientated if they get out, and then make sure it’s a clean shot to the heart if you do shoot. A werewolf with a silver bullet in him is a _very_ angry werewolf, and you do not want one of those coming after you. They’re quicker than normal, and don’t care if you’re going to kill them, they just run straight at you, and they want to kill you, and most of the time they succeed. Clear?”

Everyone nods, and Dean turns towards Madison. “You’re going to be covering Sam. Do what he says, and maybe after all this, if you’re both still alive, I won’t shoot you.” Sam looks like he’s going to say something, but Dean silences him with a movement of his head. Sam does his classic bitchface at him, and Dean revels in the freedom of being the elder brother.

“We’re going to need to get there before the moon rises, and that’s in an hour. Everyone pick a car, Madison you’re with me, and we’re moving.”

Everyone seems to decide that they want to stick to the same cars as yesterday, so Dean pulls out of the parking lot with Sam, Charlie and Madison in the Impala.

The drive takes twenty minutes, and they park two blocks away from the where the action would take place. Madison silently gets out of the car, making even Dean seem loud, and he could see her fighting her werewolf senses. Dean had warned her that if she turned on anyone during the night they would shoot her, and she had agreed that that was fair, but she was confident that she wouldn’t as long as they didn’t attack her first. Dean had said that they had no way of knowing who was who, and Madison had looked like she was wondering if this was a good idea. She had then gone over to her bad, pulled out seven large bottles of food colouring, and proceeded to drink them all. Apparently all they had to do now was not shoot the blue wolf, and she would be fine.

Annie and Victor come over and joined them while Ash and Garth walk towards their respective exits.

Crossing the street, Dean looks at the rapidly setting sun, and shakes his head. As if he needs another reason to dislike winter.

Madison pushes open a door, and Dean hates to admit it, but he would have never spotted that by itself, and even if he had known that there was a door there he probably wouldn’t have seen it. Madison puts a finger to her lips, and Dean motions her to go forward. They know how to do their jobs.

Coming out behind some shelves, Dean looks through the small space where a board had been torn out. Counting people, he saw thirty or thirty-two. He told this number to Sam, Annie, Victor and Charlie who all nod. There are two path ways out of the doorway, and Madison touches his wrist and points upwards, making him see the ladder that went to the walks overhead. He motions for Sam and Madison to go up, and then shoos Annie and Victor onto the path away from the one that Charlie is standing at.

Dean pulls his gun out, checks that the others are safe where they are supposed to be, and follows the red haired lady around the side of the warehouse.

Dean knows they’re in trouble when all sound ceases from the werewolves. The low talking stops, and the shuffling sounds of people walking are stilled. The first ripping sounds alerted them to what is coming, and Dean stops caring about stealth, and runs for the first place where he can shoot.

Changing into a werewolf apparently takes some time, and before the unit had to deal with fully grown werewolves, Dean drops six, Charlie shoots four and between the others, another fifteen go down.

The only problem now is that they had finished their transformation, and there are still nine left.

Apparently the leader is one of the ones still alive, because she howls, and the others spilt up and charge at the two teams each side of the warehouse. Two run towards the exit where Dean knows Garth is positioned at. Moving werewolves are a lot harder to kill than still ones, and Dean wasted two bullets, the wolves easily dodging around them.

The leader looks up, sees Madison, who is very blue, and jumps for the walks. That was as much as Dean sees before his vision is filled with fur. Managing to shoot just before he becomes dinner, Dean still gets knocked over, but instead of teeth and claws going after him, it’s just dead weight.

Heaving it off him is an effort, and he stands up in time just to see the other jump for Charlie. Unable to do anything, he watches as it neatly curves towards her… And is shot by a bullet from above. Grinning at his brother’s competence, Dean helps a clawed Charlie up, and looks around to see Annie and Victor heading towards them, with Victor limping slightly, Annie supporting the younger man.

“You guys okay?” Dean calls out, concerned.

Annie nods. “I’m fine, Victor here got a wolf on his leg. I’m pretty sure the knees popped out and the ankle could be broken.”

“And you?” Dean directs the question at Charlie.

“He put his claws through my arm, but if I die of anything it’s going to be blood loss.

Dean nods, and pulls out some bandages from his first aid pocket, wrapping them around the claw marks. “Sam!” He calls out. “You okay?”

There’s a huff of breath that came from above. “Only thanks to Madison. And you owe me one Charlie!” Charlie looks bemused.

“I’ll pay for your drinks one time we go out.”

“Sounds good.”

“Everyone ready to go grab Ash and Garth?”

“What are we going to do with Madison?” Sam asks.

Dean doesn’t ask about the chomping sounds he can hear from the walk above their heads, and he resolves not to go anywhere near where the female werewolf currently is. “Just leave her for the moment. She’s no harm to anyone here.”

They walk through the tunnel that the two werewolves ran through, finding one dead just out of the doorway and one lying a few feet past Garth, who is groaning slightly. His arm looks like it has two elbows, not one.

“Damnit.” Dean goes over to kneel next to Garth, who has fallen unconscious.

“Sam, can you go grab Ash?”

Sam leaves, and Dean looks over the break. “You really did a number on yourself, didn’t you Garth? We’ll get you somewhere where they can set this, and you’ll be as good as new.” Dean leans down to pick Garth up, trying to avoid moving the arm as much as he can. Garth still groans, and his eyes flutter.

“Dean? Where… the wolves…”

“We cleaned them all up. None left. We’re taking you to the local hospital.”

Dean always hates dealing with hospitals. They ask too many questions, they smell funny and every one there is unhappy. And he especially doesn’t like it when he is the one conscious, because it means that _he_ is the one who had to answer the questions. At least when he’s lying in the bed he can pretend to be asleep when anyone came around.

Carrying Garth and putting him in the backseat of the Impala, he motions for Charlie to get in Ash’s four-wheel drive, which Sam decides to drive when Ash throws his keys at him, rushing over to see what had gotten his partner this time.

Having Ash support Garth means that Dean doesn’t have to be _really_ careful when he was driving, just careful. The adrenaline from the hunt is wearing off, and he’s feeling every place where the werewolf had pinned his body to the ground.

“How’s he doing?” Dean asks Ash, turning into the hospital.

“Okay. Unconscious.” Dean smiles at the relief in Ash’s voice.

“Good.” Bringing the Impala to a stop, he parks her, and helps Ash take Garth out of the back seat.

Explaining to the hospital staff could wait until Garth was seen to. When they tried to put them in a queue, he flashes his badge in her face, the lady’s eyes go wide, and she tells them they would be the next seen to. Within twenty minutes Garth is gone, Victor is getting his ankle x-rayed, Charlie is getting stitches and Dean started having to answer questions.

He writes down the medical information that they demand, putting a well-used first name and no last name in the top of each. The hospital lady looks them over.

“These ain’t their real names are they?”

“No.”

“We need their real names to access their medical history.”

“Everything you need is on the back of the sheets. And even if you had their real names, nothing would come up in your files. So stop asking questions, or I tell my superior how you have a waiting line in the emergency room.”

The lady narrows her dark eyes. “All right. But you have to pay.”

Dean slaps down a thousand dollars and goes to sit next to Annie.

By the time morning comes around, the three of them are fixed up. The doctors want to keep Garth for a couple of days, but Dean told him that they would collect the blood of the werewolves for Pamela and come back for him. Garth looks happy, and Dean smirks ruefully, knowing that the worst part of the job is going to be the part that Garth is missing.

Gathering Sam, Annie, Ash and Charlie, Dean puts them all into the Impala and drives them back to the warehouse. They find Madison snoring naked in a pool of blood, and Sam drapes his jacket over her.

“Ash and Charlie, get the ones in the maze. Sam and Annie, remember when you’re collecting the blood, don’t let it get in any cuts, or you’ll be joining Madison in her furry dreams.

Pulling on the thick gloves they use to protect themselves from getting any blood on them, Dean grabs the bottles and waits for Annie to grab the first body. All of the dead werewolves have returned to their humans form, but according to Pamela, that doesn’t affect their blood. The thick blood spurts when Annie makes the first cut. Dean swears under his breath, hoping that whatever Pamela wants these for, it’s something that would be used for some good deed that would eventually make it back to their tab, because this is _messy_. There’s nothing clean about this, nothing nice or pretty. It’s dirty work, and Dean just wants to get it over with as fast as he can.

After Charlie and Ash finish first, storing their jars safely in the secret compartment of the Impala. Dean, Sam and Annie had only made it through ten of the werewolves in the main area. There are ten different containers for each different werewolf, as per the psychic’s instructions.

Working through the next four werewolves, Dean stands up and tries not to let his stomach turn at the sight of blood covering his hands, even if they are underneath gloves.

“Okay, we’re done here.” Sam gives him a Look, and Dean turns his head so he can pretend that he doesn’t see it. Otherwise Sam might try to have a heart to heart or something. Madison steals Sam’s shirt and slips off before Dean can decide if he really will let her go. Clever girl.

Sam finds her email address in the pocket of his jacket, which is bloodstained, but that’s not something that Sam isn’t used to.

They torch the building, and leave before the fire brigade gets there. Picking up Garth from the hospital isn’t easy – Dean had to intimidate three doctors, give the lady at the front desk a piece of his mind, and flash his badge twice to get his teammate out the door.

Garth is smiling slightly, high off whatever the hospital had pumped him full of, chuckling at the door handle of Ash’s car. Ash and Sam look bemused, while Annie and Victor climb into the Impala, Victor’s fractured ankle hindering him slightly.

“How’s your arm?” Dean asks Charlie.

“Yeah, I looked at it and cleaned it when the doctor’s wasn’t watching with some holy water. It’s not going to get infected, and in a week I can get the stitches out.”

“You good to drive?”

“The four-wheeler?” When Dean nodded she continues. “Yeah, probably.”

“Good. I want you to make Ash sleep, and you drive. Just follow the Impala, you’ll be fine.” Charlie nods her assent.

Dean throws the keys to Sam. “You got some sleep in the hospital. Now drive young padawan.”

Sam smiles faintly and takes the keys. Getting in, Dean looks at the time. It’s just past midday, and Dean feels like he could sleep for a week. He takes out the sunglasses he keeps in the glove box for just this occasion, and leans back in the chair, adjusting himself so he can sleep. The nightmares don’t usually come when he’s exhausted, and Dean once more ignores Sam’s knowing Looks.

Sam sighs slightly, but safe in the knowledge that his brother won’t bring up anything in front of his colleagues, Dean lets himself drift off to sleep.

~*~*~*~

Dean opens his eyes when he feels the rumble of the Impala’s engine stop. Sam is getting out, and by the sound of things, they’re in a pretty big city. It’s past three, and Dean groggily sits upwards in his seat. Annie is asleep in the backseat, but Victor just nods at him.

Getting out, Dean stretches lazily, watching through blurred eyes as Sam comes back towards him. Charlie pulls up beside him, and she stretches as well when she gets out, before opening the door and nearly having to catch Garth as he tumbles out. She’s saved having Garth fall on her by Ash grabbing the back of his shirt, and holding him up until they can manoeuvre him down. Sam throws her a key, and Victor another. Holding up the last one, Sam beckons Dean towards the rooms.

“I’m surprised that they’re even still open Sammy,” Dean tells him, leaning against the wall next to the door while Sam unlocks it. Putting his bag of essentials at the end of his bed, he watches as Sam takes off his outer layers and shoes, leaving him in his boxers as he slides under the sheets.

“Aren’t you gonna sleep?”

“Nah, I slept in the car. I’ll look for a flight for you tomorrow, yeah?”

Sam sighs and Looks at him, and Dean brings out his laptop and connects to the motels Wi-Fi, pulling up an airport site. “Unless you don’t actually want to go back up to DC so soon? Get a break from the wife?”

“No, I’ll go. Jess would skin me if I bailed on her while she’s pregnant.”

“Okay then, rest up so you’ll be ready to deal with her wrath when you get back.”

Sam pulls the covers over his head, and mutters something. Dean flips the lights off, pulls a bottle of whiskey put of his bag, and hopes he doesn’t fall asleep for a few hours.

When he finally does decide to go to sleep, Dean has found three different options of flights for Sam, has saved the pages where Sam will see them tomorrow, and has spent three hours surfing the net for anything weird. Finding nothing, he wonders if he could ask to go to the Roadhouse and drop by Bobby’s for a few days, let Jo see her mum again before she goes into the gruelling program run by the FBI. He’ll have to ask Rufus.

He’s also had way too much time to think about why he’s not asleep.

Deciding that he was done fighting the urge to sleep, Dean heaves his aching body up and on top of the covers. The alcohol would lessen the chances of any dreams, and since Dean was counting on getting back to a normal sleeping schedule, or at least as normal as it ever was for him, as soon as he could, he thought that he should sleep now rather than later.

Closing his eyes, he slips into sleep.

_Blood red black pain knife silver screams body fear blood screams death laughing blood red chains black black black black black black…_

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Dean thinks that maybe trying to sleep isn’t such a good idea. The dreams that ended in blackness are always the worst. Not gut-wrenching fear, but a kind of ice-cold numb dread. Opening his eyes, he immediately regrets it, the light stabbing his eyes and his mouth feeling like something had died in it.

“How much did you drink last night?” Sam’s voice is too loud, and grating, and there’s a thread of amusement running under the concern in his voice. He was probably alerted to the fact that Dean was awake by his groan.

“That bottle was full last night,” Dean mumbles, although he doesn’t think Sam hears.

He walks over to the small and rather disgusting bathroom, tries not to think about what the various stains could be and _no_ that was not a rat he just saw out of the corner of his eye, don’t think about it, don’t think about it.

Turning the shower on, Dean strips off the rest of his clothes and tries to wash the remnants of the dream away.

Sam had his bag packed by the time Dean got out. “You ready to go?”

“Can I get Annie to drop you off?”

“I was going to suggest that someone else did, since you’re not fit for driving.”

“Annie can take Ash’s car. That way baby’s not in danger.” Dressing and walking down the hall to Annie and Victor’s room was harder than it should have been, and when he knocks, Annie opens the door.

“What have I told you about your drinking boy?” She asks, pursing her lips at him.

“That it’s not good for me and that it hinders my working ability,” Dean recites.

“Such good advice; why don’t you listen?” Annie cocks her head, and the silent truth hangs between them, but since Dean asked for no one to bring it up, they won’t. However, that doesn’t mean that Annie wouldn’t hint and poke at it when she told him off about his drinking.

“Look, can you drive Sam to the airport? He needs to get back to Jess, something about him being gone for too long already. I’ll owe you one.”

“You already owe me ten Winchester, but I’ll drive your brother.”

Dean says good bye to Sam with a quick hug, and Sam whispers in his ear. “You’ve got to move on man. You can’t let this rule you,” before getting into Ash’s four-wheel drive and driving off, his hand raised in a wave that Dean returned.

He had drunk four glasses of water and ate some breakfast by the time Annie gets back. Victor and Charlie decide they want to drive in the Impala while the others catch a ride with Ash.

Four relentless days of driving later, and Dean is opening his apartment door at two in the morning after he had dealt with Annie and Garth fighting over the proper way to deal with some obscure creature that Dean couldn’t pronounce the name of. He’s tired, still sore from being run over by a werewolf, and he has to take the blood to Pamela in the morning. They are sitting in his refrigerator, and are probably going to make his food taste like werewolf for the next two months.

He just wants to sleep.

But apparently the Universe is sending out a _fuck you_ because after being woken up three times by dreams, he decides to screw waiting, and picks up the large boxes from the space in the fridge he had just for them, and drives to the outskirts of Phoenix, where the two psychics live. He would think that it would be rude to knock on someone’s door at a quarter to five in the morning, but he reasoned that they would know he was coming.

Apparently, just because they knew he was coming didn’t mean that they would be happy about it.

“Dean, you know I love you, but do you really have to come around before five o’clock?” Pamela still manages to do a great job of looking at him with her glass eyes, and currently they’re conveying extreme annoyance.

“Sorry,” Dean mutters. “I knew you wanted your things, and I couldn’t sleep, so I decided not to make you wait anymore then you had to for them.”

Pamela lets out a breath, and Dean knows that when he says he can’t sleep, she believes him. Being a psychic had upsides, and then it had downsides like being able to see into his head.

Pamela had told him that it was not something she’s willing to try again, so he’s safe from her mind reading abilities at least.

“Give ‘em here. Thanks for these. Not very often you find fresh werewolf blood.”

“I don’t really want to know what you use that for, so please don’t tell me.”

“Aw, Dean, you don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

“Yeah, and I really don’t want to know,” Dean replies, rubbing his head and then his eyes.

“You look horrible you know.”

“I haven’t slept in nearly two days. I’m entitled to look however I want to look.”

Pamela raises an eyebrow at that. “Stay here for the night. Your energies looks like they need a rest, and being here will do you wonders.”

Dean smiles gratefully. “Thanks Pam.”

As he was walking past her, she adds something. “Oh, and I already called Rufus to tell him that you won’t be going in tomorrow. Sleep as much as you need.”

“Of course you called Rufus,” Dean scoffs. “I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

And yet as soon as he lays down in the guest bedroom, a place he had become familiar enough with over the years, enough to let his guard down, and closes his eyes, he’s asleep.

 


	2. Meet The Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Dean can't remember to check his emails, he gets a nasty surprise at work.

Maybe it’s just because he’s exhausted, maybe it’s because of Pamela’s soothing, or maybe there actually is something that calms him in this house, because he isn’t woken by anything other than the clock next to his bed chiming lowly for midday.

Pulling some layers of clothes back on, Dean yawns, and proceeds to walk out to the kitchen, listening behind the living room door to make sure that there are no customers in there before he makes his way to where the cereal is stored in the pantry.

Feeling better than he had in a while, Dean eats the cereal while reflecting on his lack of a hangover.

It isn’t usually this bad. He’d have the nightmares once or, if he was unlucky, twice a week, and it’d be one night of sleep that would be gone. The only times that it usually flares up is when they are dealing with a case where demons are involved, or if he saw any part of himself, especially his hands, covered in blood. If he was holding a tool as well they’re usually worse. They’re also aggravated if there are any supernatural creatures around.

He supposes he could blame them on the whole blood thing, but the dreams had picked up before that. For the last two weeks he had been getting hardly any sleep whatsoever, and he doesn’t know what to blame it on. The drinking is usually only something that he had to do after a nightmare, but it’s turning into an everyday thing, even before he goes to sleep.

Maybe Sam had been right to keep giving him Looks.

Pamela walks into the kitchen, brandishing a wooden spoon. “Sleeping Beauty awakes! You didn’t need to sleep, huh?”

“Yeah yeah yeah, rub it in. It’s just…” Dean hesitates, the instinct to avoid the subject of his dreams large and ever-present in his mind. But Pamela had been in there, she understood as much as anyone could ever understand, and she was just standing there, not judging, and if he chose not to say anything then she wouldn’t hold it against him.

“Lately they’ve been picking up, for no reason whatsoever. Instead of once a week it’s once a night and the only thing that helps is to drink, except that doesn’t really help so I just drink and drink and still there’s dreams and… I don’t know. It sucks.”

Pamela nods. “Sounds like you got a problem. Do you want some sleeping drafts? First time free, see if they work.”

Dean smiles slightly. “Yeah Pam, that’s be great, thanks.”

Leaving the psychics house, Dean crosses to the Impala. Getting in, he drives back to the apartment to tie up the last loose ends of the hunt. He calls Sam, makes sure that he got back to DC safe and that Jess hasn’t killed him. Sam claims he’s fine, but Dean can hear the tired edge beneath his voice that he’s sure is echoed in his. Thankfully Sam doesn’t ask about why he is tired, and Dean hangs up relieved that his little brother is out of harm’s way.

He goes and knocks on Chuck’s door to let him know that he’s back, that he doesn’t have to take care of the apartment anymore and to say thank you for keeping an eye on it. Chuck’s response is his typical rambling hero worship, and Dean huffs out a laugh at it.

Back in his apartment he inventories his weapons, and completes his section of the paperwork for the hunt and emails it to Charlie. She sends back a reply thanking him for it, and tells him that Garth and Victor have been taken off the team until they’re fit for duty, which may be a few weeks, longer in Garth’s case. Definitely after Jo leaves, which leaves them down three team members, and that’s if you include Charlie.

Dean reflects on this as he pulls out his bag, which he had thrown on the bench, and unpacks it, putting some things in his laundry pile and some in his wardrobe. He brings out his weapons, and begins cleaning and sharpening the swords, storing them safely, and hiding them in the safe places throughout the apartment where no one would find them even if they went looking for them. The one in the ceiling above the cupboard is the most hidden one, and Dean doesn’t think that anyone who doesn’t know it’s there could find it.

When he had finished unpacking everything, Dean starts to go through his very large stack of papers for any suspicious murders. He always kept the obituary page as well as any articles that looked like supernatural activity might be involved, filing them in the cabinet in the small room taking up space between the kitchen and the bathroom.

Filing and organising all of the papers from the ten days he was absent from the apartment that Chuck had meticulously collected is a mind numbing task, but also passes the time extremely quickly. Before he knows it the clock was chiming midnight, and he’s looking dubiously at the bundle of plants that Pamela had given him.

Dropping one leaf of the plant in a glass of water, Dean lets it sit for fifteen minutes, as per Pamela’s instructions, before he brushes his teeth and changes into clothes that are more accommodating for sleep. Instinctively he almost reaches for the bottle of Jack sitting not-so-innocently on his kitchen counter before refraining. He would try Pamela’s weird leaf thing, and if that doesn’t work then he would go back to the not so effective method of drinking himself into unconsciousness.

Pamela had said it would work for about six hours, and while that was more than Dean got most of the time, it still isn’t the amount she wants him to sleep. But Dean’s life is busy, and cutting down on the hours he sleeps helps him to keep on top of things.

~*~*~*~

Dean opens his eyes groggily. Is there something he’s meant to be doing? It feels like there is something he should be doing. He rolls over slowly, blinking owlishly, to check the time.

_6:01_

“Shit,” Dean barks, trying to get up but getting his legs and feet tangled in his blankets and falling out of the bed instead.

Madly dashing around his apartment, Dean leaves with his tie and shoes in his hand, without eating or brushing his teeth, only half of his usual gear on him and probably looking like a mess.

Luckily, the traffic is fine, and Dean gets there just on time, ending the most rushed twenty nine minutes he’d had that week.

“Just made it in time huh Dean?” Krissy smiles at him.

“Yeah, yeah, shut it short stuff.”

“Victor’s grabbing some breakfast in the cafeteria. You look like you haven’t eaten anything yet. And Rufus was being _really_ cagey about something yesterday and this morning, and I’m pretty sure that he’s down there as well. All the others are talking about something, but stopped when I came near. Jo doesn’t know anything about it either, and it’s starting to piss her off. Rufus must have told them about whatever he was being secretive about. Tell me when you find out?” Krissy puts on her most persuasive face. “It’ll annoy Jo if I find out what it is before her.”

Dean frowns. “Charlie told me that Victor’s off until he can walk around without help from anyone or anything. And I don’t think I’ll be in Jo’s good books if I tell you before her. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

“Yeah well Vic didn’t get the message until I told him this morning when he limped in here. He said that he really didn’t want to fight his way back through the city so soon after he did on his bum ankle. And yeah, I’m sure we’ll find out, but we’re always last.” Krissy pouts. Dean can’t really blame her. He would hate finding out information last.

“It’s one of the things about being an intern. I’m going to go and find Victor – I’m starving. I’ll see you around Krissy.”

Krissy scowls at him, and Dean walks down the hall to the elevator where he could ride it down to the third floor, where the cafeteria is. The only bad thing about it is the fact that it is shared by every unit, so whenever they went they couldn’t discuss anything about their job. Everyone seems to like the excuse to talk about things that had no relation to what they did, but Dean just can’t. He just doesn’t have anything that he did outside of what he did. Even Sam’s job is related to it, so he couldn’t even really talk about what his brother is doing. Charlie has her games and her LARPing, which is something that Dean really wants to go along to one day, Victor talks about his sister and what she is doing in politics, Annie told stories from when she was a bartender at one of LA’s sleaziest bars, Ash has his computer stuff, and Garth just told jokes that everyone laughed at, no matter how bad they are. Dean doesn’t do anything much beside his work.

He takes a moment to appreciate just how crazy his life is.

Victor is sitting by himself at a table, and he waves at Dean while Dean stands in the line, getting a couple of pieces of bacon, two eggs and two pieces of toast. Seeing Rufus standing over at the side of the room with a group of strange looking people, Dean frowns and sits down across from Victor.

Dean leans over to speak to the older man softly, not wanting the other people in the room to hear. “Who are they?” He gestures towards the six people on the opposite side of the room, all of whom are standing as if they have a ruler along their spines. There’s a half-bald guy wearing a suit who is talking to Rufus. He seems to be making Rufus nervous, which is something that Dean is finding hard to believe. Nothing makes Rufus nervous.

Next to them is a blonde man who is drinking what looks like a cocktail, is wearing black jeans, a grey vee neck shirt with a black jacket over the top, and is ignoring everyone and everything in the room as if it’s below him.

A black, bald man who hasn’t stopped scowling since Dean had walked into the room is also wearing a full suit and is looking down his nose at all of the agents, but whenever the man who is talking to Rufus turns to look at the other five, he puts on a pleased expression that fades as soon as he turns again. Dean decides that he dislikes him.

An attractive girl who looks about 18 with fiery red hair is standing next to Mr-Scowl-a-lot. She’s the most casually dressed, with jeans and a white top covered with a green army jacket. Her expression is searching, and she watches the people coming in and out of the doors with an expression that Dean finds slightly off-putting. She is looking like she has never seen a human before, and while that is cute on some people, on her it makes her look otherworldly. Dean wonders if she is single – and if she would appreciate someone asking her out. She looks just like Dean’s type. Apart from the whole creepy staring thing.

A blonde innocent looking kid is standing next to the red haired girl, and Dean narrows his eyes in confusion when he sees that he’s wearing a Weiner Hut uniform, and Dean speculates why a 17 year old is standing in the FBI’s cafeteria. Did the badge on his shirt say Alfie?

But it’s the man standing next to Alfie that makes Dean pause. He wonders how he had even seen the others, how it had taken so long for Dean to see him. The man is looking around at everything as if it were the most interesting thing he has ever seen. He is the furthest away from the group, but he definitely belongs to the group, as everyone is avoiding getting in his way, moving and even abandoning their hard won food if he wants to poke at it. The man is wearing a tan trench coat, covering black slacks and a white button down shirt with a blue backward tie. Does he look vaguely familiar?

But it’s when he looks up and locks eyes with Dean that he _really_ appreciates the new-comer. His eyes are so blue he makes the sky look like a washed out cloth that has seen too many uses.

He’s vaguely aware of Victor staring at him in disbelief. He’s picked all this up in a few seconds, and now he had been locking eyes with the blue-eyed man longer than he had spent observing the rest of his party. The black bald man says something that Dean can’t pick up, and the trench coated man turns slowly and walks back to the others.

Dean sighs softly and turns back to Victor, who is looking at him like he had grown another head. “What?” Dean asks, wondering what he did to deserve that look.

“Were you just checking out _an_ _angel?”_

“Angel? Victor what are you talking about?”

“Have you been listening to anything that I’ve said? I’m not going to repeat it. Just check your email.” Victor sounds annoyed, so Dean decides to just get out his computer and start it up, sweeping his forgotten food off to the side.

He cannot believe what he finds.

Of course he knows about angels – who didn’t? He had just never met one, or knew anyone that did. And now apparently as a part of the new _Human-Angel Initiative_ , or HAI, they would be _working_ with them. Dean knew that no matter what, supernatural creatures are nothing more than that. Blood thirsty killing machines that he had to protect the world from.

There was an email that had been sent to all FBI members regarding the newcomers, saying that they are to be respected and if they wanted you to do something, you should do it. There was another sent to the SPN team that detailed the situation more. Jo and Krissy hadn’t been sent the email.

He isn’t sure what to think about angels though. Aren’t they meant to be naked babies who sat on fluffy clouds and watched over civilisations from afar?

“Are you telling me that those people over there,” Dean pauses, unsure if he’s ready to state the next part of the sentence “Are angels?” He feels all his good feelings towards the red haired girl and the blue eyed man dry up.

“Yeah. Apparently they’re looking at us and choosing some candidates for their partners. Canvasing us.” Victor sounds disgusted.

Dean can’t find it in himself to blame him. “Who are they choosing from?” Because if it’s just the SPN unit, why are they standing in the cafeteria? Why had an email been sent the other members? All units took their food here. It would be much more efficient to introduce them separately, where everyone would know what was what and nothing would be hidden.

“Uh, everyone.”

“Everyone?” Dean certainly did not squeak when that came out. Definitely not. “Even the normal units?”

“Yeah. But they’re not going to know what they are. Just that they are a new agent.”

“Holy crap is that a recipe for disaster.”

“That’s basically what everyone is thinking. I think only two of them are going to go to other units, and three stay with us.”

“What about the sixth one?” Dean asks.

“The guy who’s talking to Rufus is kinda like their leader I guess. He’s just here to introduce, shake hands, and then he’s gone. The others are the ones that are staying.”

“That’s ridiculous. How are they going to hide what they are from the units with no knowledge of the supernatural? That’s what we’re for – keeping the truth away from the civilians.”

“I really don’t know what they’re trying to do. Rufus didn’t say anything in the email, and when I asked him about it this morning he didn’t say anything that he hadn’t already.”

“Maybe the high-ups told him that he’s not allowed to say anything to us until they say so?” Dean suggests, watching the angels with a critical eye, looking for signs to show that they aren’t human. They’re gazes are too calculating, bodies too still, backs too straight, posture too stiff, just all over _not human_.

Rufus finishes talking to the bald man, spots Victor and Dean sitting together and winds his way through the tables towards them.

“Good morning boys. Can you round everyone up for a meeting in my office in ten minutes?”

“Garth is at home with his arm, but everyone else should be here.”

Rufus nods, and waves them away. Dean offers an arm for Victor to lean on, and he takes it with a huff, but they probably make it to the elevator twice as quickly as they would have if he hadn’t.

“Good morning Lara.”

Lara gives the two of them a quick smile. “Dean! Victor. Hey. Hi. You guys probably want to go to your office don’t you? Of course you do, you’re in the elevator coming up from the third floor. Unless you’re going out. Which you totally could be doing, I mean Victor you have a cast around your ankle, I really don’t think you should be walking around, and maybe Dean has convinced you of that, but since you’re both really focused on your job, doing whatever you guys do on the thirteenth floor, I mean I’m not asking that would be top secret stuff right? I’m sorry, please ignore me, I’m babbling, I do that when I get nervous, and I’m nervous now and I’m just going to shut up now.”

Dean smiles slightly at the brown haired girl’s reaction to seeing them. After he had rescued her from a situation where there had been at least nine guys and one Lara, and no one who was willing to help her around at the time, he was subject to her rants around him, as she got nervous when he was around, and she talked a lot when she was nervous.

“Yeah Lara, we’re just going up to our level for a meeting. You can stop on your level, it’s okay, don’t cancel your floor.”

“Sorry. I won’t do it again. Unless you’re in a hurry. Then I’d do it again.”

Lara gets off on her floor, and Victor shoots a glance on him. “She’s got a bit of a crush on you.”

“No she doesn’t. She has a crush on Charlie, I know that.”

Victor grins, raising an eyebrow. “Have you introduced them yet?”

“I will soon. I’m still making sure that Lara’s a good person, although she’s passing with flying colours so far.”

“That’s you Winchester. Always looking out for others. You should try looking after yourself every once in a while.”

Dean opens his mouth to respond, to tell Victor that he does take care of himself thank you very much, but then he remembers the sleepless nights and too much whiskey, and closes it.

Deciding that Krissy and Jo need to hear this as well, Dean invites them into the meeting room, ignoring their questions, telling them they’d get it soon enough.

Gathering all of the crew, Dean sits down between Ash and Krissy, leaving a couple of chairs where Rufus could choose to sit. But when the older man comes in, he isn’t alone.

Dean should have been expecting it, should have known that the angels would come up with Rufus, and that this new Angel-Human Initiative was going to be the source of the meeting. The blonde man with the cocktail stands in a corner, and even though he was sipping it every few seconds, the level of the liquid doesn’t seem to go down.

The angels continue through the meeting room to Rufus’s office, the one with the trench coat lingering, eyes on Dean. Then he looks at the one sipping his alcohol in the corner and frowns slightly. “Balthazar, leave the humans to themselves.”

Balthazar rolls his eyes at the dark haired man. “Whatever you say Cassie,” he drawls slowly in an English accent. Stalking past the rest of the team, who are seated, and Dean, who had stood as soon as he had realised that the angels are there, he casts a disgruntled look at the table and the people around it. Dean didn’t think that ‘Cassie’ is a name for an angel, not like Balthazar, and thinks that it might be a nickname. Do angels nickname each other?

‘Cassie’ gives Balthazar a slight scowl, something you could have easily missed. Just by looking at this guy for a minute or so, Dean could tell that he shows his emotions through his eyes, not through his expressions.

Rufus motions for him to sit, but Dean doesn’t move until he couldn’t see any angels. Then he slowly sinks down into the chair.

“By now you’ve probably all seen the email I sent you. Just over a month ago, Zachariah approached the board of directors, saying he wanted to… work with us.” Dean takes notice of the pause, and he’s sure that everyone else in the room does as well.

“Working? With _angels_?” Dean makes sure his surprise and displeasure are apparent in his voice. Rufus purses his mouth slightly. “You know, supernatural creatures that could tear us apart as easily as they look at us?”

Rufus lets out a huff of breath, and there is tension in his shoulders, spine stiff where it is usually slouched. “It’s not my decision,” he says, a rare bit of honesty and truthfulness and doubt edging through in his voice. Letting out any negative emotion towards the high ups is something that none of them did, but Rufus in particular. If he wants to keep his job, then he needs to be in complete support of what his bosses want, and he needs to make his team think the same way. Dean doesn’t particularly like it, but he also doesn’t want to lose this job, since there are a multitude of hunters out there who are more than willing to step up for a steady job and steady income while also killing anything supernatural that they find. He wants to stay, so he plays along.

He can see the sentiment in all the others faces, nobody saying anything, but all of them thinking along the same lines as Dean.

“Look. Just give it a go, okay? They approached us, so they must want to be friendly. Don’t aggravate them,” Rufus says, brows furrowed as he looks straight at Dean. “Don’t ask them any questions that they don’t want to answer,” he says at Charlie. “And don’t make them smite you,” he looks at Krissy.

“Hey!”

“The paperwork would be horrible,” Rufus finishes, looking over them. “Can you all at least try?”

Dean hesitates, but when he sees that everyone is waiting to see what he does, he nods slowly. It’s followed by soft noises of assent from the others, and Rufus’s mouth pinches in just a little, like he knows who the real leader is, and it’s not him. Dean still isn’t sure that that role suits him, ever since he was first elected to lead he hasn’t been sure it suits him. He wears the mantle of a leader a lot easier now, and is much more comfortable with the others looking up to him, depending on him to know what to do.

Dean wonders if the angels know about his status.

“Good. Now you also know that the angels are going to be choosing partners from you, and the other FBI units. Castiel, Anael and Uriel will be choosing partners from within the SPN unit, and Balthazar and Samandriel will be choosing partners from the other units. They’ll be around, watching and looking so they can choose partners…” Rufus trails off, obviously not knowing how the angels will choose. “Based on who they like,” he finishes, and Dean sees Charlie and Annie raise their eyebrows almost simultaneously.

“So, come and meet them, I guess.” Rufus stands, and Dean follows him into his office, the rest of the team trailing behind them. Dean doesn’t fool himself, knowing that the angels would have been able to hear every word that they said in the other room. He isn’t sure what they would make of it, but he knows that they would have heard.

Dean pegs Anael as the red haired girl, and Samandriel as Alfie. ‘Cassie’ must have been short for Castiel, and the other angel who isn’t the leader must be Uriel, aka Mr Scowl A Lot.

Rufus introduces them, and sure enough Dean gets the names correct. Zachariah is the leader, Uriel is the bald angel, and Alfie’s alter ego is Samandriel. Castiel keeps his eyes on Dean throughout the whole process. Zachariah is the leader, and he eyes Dean up in a way that he doesn’t particularly like. As soon as names had been passed around, Zachariah starts speaking.

“Have you informed them of the premise of our arrangement?” He asks, staring down at Rufus. Rufus nods. “Very good! I’ll be seeing you around then,” he said, eyeing Dean up again before disappearing with the sound of rustling feathers. Dean feels his eyes widen, and decides not to leave out or do anything around here that he didn’t want to be found, not if they could pop in and out as they pleased.

Rufus shifts uncomfortably. “Everyone, choose an angel and say hello, and ah, chat for a few minutes.”

Dean narrows his eyes. Jo immediately walks over to Anael, Ash and Rufus approach Samandriel, Annie goes to talk to Castiel, who looks at Dean before speaking lowly with the older woman. Victor and Charlie look surprised when Balthazar walks over to them.

Krissy is standing close to Dean, and Dean watches as the dark skinned angel, Uriel, approaches them. He looks like someone stuck a rotting fish under his nose, and Dean thinks that he doesn’t want to be here. Krissy takes a small step closer to him.

Looking down his nose at them, Uriel sniffs. “Hello,” he says, sounding displeased. Dean feels himself bristling instinctively, and resists the urge to shove Krissy behind him.

“Hey,” Dean returns warily. What are they even meant to talk about?

“You should know that even if we are being made to work with you mud-monkeys,” Uriel almost snarls, “I take no pleasure in it, and would rather be doing _anything_ else.”

Dean swallows. “Yeah well we’re not too happy to be working with you either,” trying to bite back the words stuck in his throat about how Uriel could go and shove his opinion where the sun doesn’t shine.

“You are small, insignificant, and worthless,” Uriel continues, evenly. “So even if you are being gifted with Heaven’s presence, do not take it to mean anything about yourselves, and _don’t get ideas_.”

Dean feels his mouth drawing up into a line. “We won’t,” he says.

Uriel smiles, and there’s something wrong about it. “Good. As long as you know your place, you’ll be fine.”

All of the angels suddenly looked upwards for a second, and then gather together once more in one part of the room.

Dean looks the angels over again, once more noting how Castiel’s eyes are focused on him. Balthazar tips his head back slightly, draining his never ending cocktail, and throws the glass over his shoulder. The glass doesn’t reach the floor, disappearing halfway, and by the time Dean has finished tracking it with his eyes, all of the angels except for Castiel have left. Another two seconds pass, where the angel unerringly holds Dean’s eyes, and then he too is gone, the rustle of his feathers somehow more distinct from the others.

“Well,” Ash starts. “That went well.”

“You don’t say,” Victor grumbles. Dean just shakes his head. What is he mean to do about this new arrangement?

Rufus lets out a breath, something small that you could easily miss. Something that the others in the room probably missed, because they don’t pay as close attention to everything like Dean does, and that’s because they don’t have a reason to pay such close attention. Dean wishes with every fibre of his being to forget why he needs to pay such close attention to everything. His hand almost goes to the unmarked and unscarred anti-possession tattoo on his chest, but he stops the instinctive motion before it starts. It’s a nervous tick that he doesn’t need the rest of his team knowing about.

“The angels will pick their partners in a few days, and Zachariah will tell me who they’ve picked. Until then, just go around on your normal day to day tasks, and do your normal tasks. The angels will hover, but they probably won’t do anything too drastic, so don’t approach them until you have to. We still don’t know how they react to anything, and until you know them better you have to treat them as if they’ll explode at any second, okay?”

Everyone nods, and all Dean can think of is how badly this is going to go wrong.

At least the report he filed on aerial attacks makes a bit more sense now. Although Dean doesn’t think that anything could stop an angel, not with their disappearing skills.

As soon as he’s out of the office that day, Dean calls Sam.

“They’ve done _what_ exactly?” His brother voice is a mix of confusion, concern and fascination.

“Sam, don’t make me repeat what I just said.”

“It’s just. Whoa. You’re going to be working with angels. _Angels_ Dean. Real life angels.”

Dean snorts softly. “If it’ll get any of the starry eyed notions out of your head, they’re kind of dicks. They all just follow they’re leader around, don’t say anything, and one of them was drinking a refilling cocktail.”

This just seems to make Sam even more enthused. “But there are so many reasons _why_ they could be doing that Dean! Do they share a hive mind, are they being controlled, do they have to be controlled, are they willing to just follow their leader around? Do they choose to follow, do they have the option of disobeying or not? It’s fascinating, and interesting, and this is why I joined this world, I _want_ to find out interesting things about stuff that other people don’t know! I _want_ to know about these things, I want to learn, I want to _know_.”

“I think you’re getting too worked up about this Sam. You’re not even here, how are you going to learn all this?”

Sam goes quiet for a second. “I can’t leave Jess, not now, with such little time before the baby gets here. It’s only another three months, and Dean I just can’t leave her.”

“Yeah, I know Sammy. I want you and Jess to be safe okay? I need to know that you’re safe up in DC, with your house and your dog and your backyard and your family, okay?”

Sam sighs. “You shouldn’t measure your life around me Dean. You need to make some friends that aren’t who you work with, and get some hobbies that haven’t got anything to do with the supernatural world. You need to get a life Dean.”

Dean feels his lips flatten into a line, an old argument that they’d had many times before surfacing. “Sam, I’ve lived my whole life around you. I’m not going to stop now.”

There was a tense silence on the other end of the phone line, and Dean can imagine Sam looking up at the ceiling, rubbing the back of his neck and wondering what he could do about his crazy brother.

“I think I might bring Jess down there,” Sam changes track, and it’s a jarring switch in the conversation that Dean has to struggle with. “She’s cooped up in here, and she needs a change in scenery, even if it’s only for a weekend. I don’t think that you can fly too far from the end of the pregnancy, so we need to come down now if we’re going to.”

“Okay Sam. Ask Jess if she wants to come down, and if she says yes then you’re welcome to come and stay at my place for a weekend.”

Dean can hear Sam’s gratitude over the phone. It’s always carried in his voice, rather than the words he would say, and in the body language that he used. Even with half the equation, Dean can figure out that Sam is happy that Dean is accepting the olive branch he’s extending. “Thanks Dean. I will. Now go and research about angels. Ask if you can have a couple of days to go and visit Bobby and Ellen, take Jo with you before her course. Hell, take your whole team. It’ll let off some stress, and get you away from the office for a weekend.”

“I don’t know. Pretty sure they want us all around the office so the angels can ‘observe’ us. But I’ll ask Rufus tomorrow.”

“Do you think one of them will pick you?”

Dean snorts. “I don’t think so. I don’t want any partner, let alone one that’s a supernatural creature. I have no idea why they would want to pick me, and I am going to give them absolutely no reason to pick me. They can latch onto Charlie and her outbursts of whatever craze is gripping her right at the moment.”

Sam is silent for a second. “I don’t know Dean. You’re a pretty inspirational guy, and you’re the unofficial leader. I’m not sure why they wouldn’t want to pick you.”

“Apart from all the sins I’ve got tacked up on my bill? Lets’ count them, shall we? My entire job, from lying to killing.”

“Dean.”

“They probably wouldn’t approve of the drinking either, and even if they understand the reason behind it, well, that’s just another thing to add to the list isn’t it?”

“Dean –”

“Not to mention my trail of one night stands a mile long.”

“ _Dean_!”

Dean shuts up for a second. Sam is silent as well. “Like I said, I don’t see a reason that they wouldn’t want to be around you, alright?”

Dean pulls drives into his parking space, and uses the fact that he’s getting out of the car to excuse his silence.

Sam isn’t fooled, and continues quietly. “I’ll ask Jess about coming down, okay? I’ll call you once she’s decided.”

After the usual farewells, Dean is left standing alone in his apartment. He’s tired, from the stress of the day, and all he really wants to do is lie down and go to sleep. Instead, he walks over to his not immodest library, and starts looking for all the books he can find that look like they might mention angels. His bookshelves are more organised than Bobby’s, who seems to have a filing system that occurs nowhere else on earth, and is impossible to find anything in, so in ten minutes he has a stack to read through.

“Time to get going,” Dean mutters to himself as he pulls the first book in front of him.

~*~*~*~

The next four days are annoyingly similar.

Dean gets about or less than four hours of sleep each night. If he tries to sleep any more than that the dreams come, screwing up his rest more than staying awake does. And staying awake and being at his apartment means research. A lot of research.

He had asked Rufus about going up to Bobby’s, but the captain had shot him down, telling him that maybe after the angels had picked their partners. They needed to be all together now, and while Dean couldn’t really understand that, since the angels could literally be anywhere they wanted in the blink of an eye, but maybe it had more to do with the team staying together, rather than what the angels are doing.

The angels hovered, and when he said that he _meant_ that. There was always one in the corner of the room, not saying or doing anything, just watching, just looking. It was driving Dean up the walls, and he found any excuse he could to get out of the office. Occasionally they exchanged words, and by the day the Rufus tells him who the angels have chosen he’s spoken to them all at least once. Anael is probably the most bearable. He’s sure that the angels are the source of the very frequent reoccurrence of his dreams.

No one could find any hunts of value, just a few small salt n burns across the country that Dean emailed to Bill, so he could sent some hunters that are in the region that way to take care of it. Although by the third day Dean would have driven for those five days, there and back, just to get away from those eyes, which are always present.

Castiel is the worst. Dean can deal with the other angels, since they divide their staring time equally between all of the people in the room. Castiel just stares at him, and only looks away if anyone gets too close to him. Dean is sure that it is slowly but surely driving him insane.

When Rufus calls the meeting to tell them who the angels had elected Dean is extremely relieved. No more staring, he can get along with his routine with only a few glimpses of an angel every now and then.

Which was why he was in utter disbelief when Rufus told him that one of the angels chose him.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t make me repeat this, Winchester. You got yourself an angel. Zachariah assigned them to partners, and you are one of the chosen ones.” Rufus glares up at him from his desk where he was sitting, Dean standing above him with his hands planted on the desk. “A lot of people would do almost anything to be around an angel for an extended period of time.”

 _An extended period of time_ , Dean thinks despairingly. “How long is this going on for then?” He asks, desperate to hear the answer of only a few weeks, a few months.

“There’s no end date. Whenever they feel like pulling out.”

Dean gapes. “So I’m stuck with an angelic partner until he doesn’t want to hang around anymore? Do you know how patient angels are? Don’t they live forever?”

Rufus tilts his slightly, opening his mouth a little. “It won’t be forever. Just live with it, okay?”

Dean purses his lips, figuring that he didn’t really have a choice, no matter how much he didn’t want to do this. Even the thought of being near a supernatural creature and not killing it was putting his stomach into a lazy barrel roll, his meagre breakfast trying to force its way up his throat.

“Rufus…”

Rufus sighs, and Dean knows that he knows why Dean is so hesitant to do this. “You can do this Dean. Think of it as a step forward.”

“Yeah I don’t need any extra steps in my staircase of problems. But whatever. It won’t be for every case, will it?”

Rufus shakes his head, suddenly sure of himself once more. “Only some cases. Mainly the demon ones.”

“They do know that I avoid the demon ones as much as I can, right?”

“They insisted that you be one of the ones who are chosen for a partner. Angel logic, ain’t make any sense to me, but then again, how can we understand them?”

Dean agrees, and as he was about to leave, he remembers to ask something. “Which angel is partnered with me?”

Rufus looks up from where he is shuffling some paperwork on his desk. “Ah, Castiel I believe.”

Of course it’s the stalker angel.

“Get Jo and go and talk to them. They’re in the meeting room.”

Collecting Jo on the way to greet the angels, Dean could feel her excitement. “Angels Dean! Real angels! Partnered with us!”

“If I hear that line one more time, then I’m gonna punch something,” Dean mutters, pulling open the door. Anael and Castiel are standing in there, and Castiel’s eyes immediately lock onto Dean’s. Shifting uncomfortably, Dean stands on the opposite side of the table of the two angels, and once again lets himself weigh them up.

Anael is standing with her legs slightly apart, dark jeans fitting snugly under a white button down shirt and a green army jacket, the same as what she had been wearing when Dean had first laid eyes on her. Her posture is relaxed, open, and seems unthreatening. Dean knows that she is anything but, that she could twirl and become a deadly fighting machine in less than a second.

Castiel is still wearing the tan trench coat, which baggily falls over his frame, easily allowing objects to be hidden within its folds. His suit is cheap looking, doesn’t fit him well, and isn’t tailored to him. The blue tie that he’s wearing is turned around backwards. Dean wonders if Castiel had tied it himself. The angel’s blue eyes are sharp and piercing, and they contrast with his dark hair. His jaw is strong, and Dean can see the lithe lines of his body hiding underneath the multiple layers of clothing.

“Hey, I’m Dean.” That was probably completely unnecessary, but Dean felt that introducing yourself was one of the first things that you did when you talked to someone for the first time, even if they already knew your name.

“My name’s Jo,” Jo said next to him, and Dean could have grinned. The younger female is learning after all, taking cues from the leader and following without questioning.

“I am called Castiel,” Castiel intones, voice rough and deep. Dean feels his breath catch slightly, the sound of Castiel’s voice reverberating through him.

“I am named Anael, but please, call me Anna.” Anna smiles slightly, and Dean thinks that something as powerful as her shouldn’t look so innocent.

Anna walks away to the corner of the room, and Jo follows, probably to talk about their schedules, what they’re going to do and how to work together. Dean eyes Castiel from the other side of the table, watching him watch him. Castiel seems inclined to let the silence lay, so Dean feels obligated to say something.

“So how’s this going to work?” He asks, watching the angel’s reaction.

A faint line appears between Castiel’s eyes as his eyebrows draw together and he studies Dean. Dean can feel his layers being stripped away, and feels like the angel is looking deeply through him, seeing his soul, something that he really doesn’t want out in the open.

“I believe that you call me if I am not present and you find signs of demonic activity. Otherwise, I will be following you when Heaven does not require me, and if you are in need of help, I can assist.”

“So I just wait around for you?” He would have to get the angel a phone, since he doesn’t think they came equipped with one.

Castiel’s head goes back for a second and then he narrows his eyes. “I am not here to do your job Dean. If I am present I can support you, but if I am not then do not count on my help.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Dean says the words calmly, trying to hide how his hands are trembling slightly by clasping them behind his back. He pauses before continuing. “I thought angels are meant to be guardians… fluffy wings, halos. Not dicks.” All of the information that Dean had gathered so far about them pointed to the fact that they all sucked. Especially Uriel, he is the worst of all of them.

Castiel doesn’t say anything, but narrows his eyes. “Read the bible. Angels are warriors of God. I’m a soldier.”

“Then why haven’t you been around down here before now, getting rid of monsters, saving people?” Dean questions.

“Everything has its purpose Dean. Everything happens for a reason. We cannot interfere, because everything has a balance. My Father has made it all balance.”

“That’s _bullshit_. Good people have died, are dying, will die, and you’re not going to do anything about it because it’s ‘God’s plan?’”

Castiel blinks and Dean realises that he hadn’t before now. “Yes.”

Resisting the urge to really tell Castiel what he thought about that since it would probably get him killed, and Rufus had told them to avoid that, Dean swallows instead.

“Fine,” Dean says when Castiel doesn’t. Speaking to silence is disconcerting, and is something he’s not used to. He feels more at ease when Sam’s voice and Charlie’s chattering surround him, not this oppressive silence, filled with something that he couldn’t name, Castiel’s eyes on him, silently studying him as if he was worth being studied.

“Come here,” Dean says, and he brings his phone up to snap a photo of Castiel. The angel looks vaguely confused, and Dean smirks at it. Definitely going on his badge.

“What… is that for?”

“If you’re gonna be part of the team, you’re going to need a badge to flash.”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “That does make sense.”

Dean feels the corner of his mouth lifting up against his will. “Yeah, it does. I’m just going to let you know right now, I’m not thrilled about working with you.”

Castiel’s face stays emotionless. “I too have better things to do with my time than watch over one human, but my superiors will it so, and I must obey.”

Dean thinks about Sam’s questions then, but he thinks that it’s too soon in their relationship to start asking Castiel them. “Whatever you say, as long as you know I’m not willingly participating in this.”

Leaving the still silently staring angel, Dean walks out of the room, followed quickly by Jo. She’s smiling, and Dean thinks that her meeting probably went better than his own.

“She’s nice. I like her. She said she’ll come with me to training, and learn there as well. She said she could arrange that with Rufus for her to get a place, even this late. It’s going to be cool.”

Dean grunts, still not liking how Castiel had remained distant and aloof through their talking. The angel could have at least _tried_ to connect more with Dean, since they would be working together for a while? Dean had made an effort after all – he _did_ talk to the guy.

Maybe Cas really doesn’t want to do this either. Dean is struck by the thought. Castiel did say he didn’t want to do this, but would the angels force unwilling participants into their midst? Cas must have not minded too much, or he would have said no to being here. If the angels are forced though, Dean thinks that that would be an even bigger disaster waiting to happen, but he doesn’t know if his thoughts are correct.

Didn’t Rufus say that the angels could choose who they were partnered with? Didn’t Castiel just say that they were assigned? Dean frowns slightly, and the issue of it rolled and turned over in the back of his head for the rest of the day.

When he gets home he calls Sam to tell him about Castiel, and Sam congratulates him on his promotion.

“A promotion?” Dean asks bemusedly.

“Well partnering an angel is a step above what you normally do right? Did you ask for a raise?”

“Damnit.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“I’ll use it against Rufus when I ask to go to Bobby’s.”

“Oh yeah, Jess told me that the weekend after next is when she said we could fly down.”

Dean calculates it in his head. “If I stop over in Denver, I can get to Bobby’s in two days. That means if I leave before Sunday I can still get there and back and have a few days there before you guys get here. Now all I have to do is convince Rufus.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to do it.”

“Yeah yeah. I have to call Bobby to make sure he’s home and I actually can go. Are you definitely coming?”

“Yes, the flight is booked, and everything’s ready to go. I’ll see you and your mystery new partner, okay?”

Dean huffs, and says goodnight to his younger brother. Glancing over at the bench, Dean bites his lip before turning away from the incriminating silence and the golden glow of the whiskey.

Pulling up his desk chair, Dean opens one of his last books that he has on angels. The past few days he had made his way through half of his library, re-reading books that had nothing to do with angels but mentioned religion, Christianity, or anything related to angels. Dean isn’t sure how much of it is correct, but he figures being over prepared is better than being under prepared.

Rubbing his eyes wearily, Dean turns the page. It’s nearing two am, and he’s considering going to sleep. It was only the memory of the dreams that had been plaguing him for the last two weeks that keeps him out of his bedroom.

Another hour passes, and Dean acknowledges that he is probably exhausted enough not to dream.

Letting his head fall down on the pillow, he almost feels like he fell asleep before he closed his eyes.

~*~*~*~

“I believe that as it is a working day, you should currently be at your work. Unless the human custom has changed since I last checked. As I checked four minutes ago, I do not think it has changed.”

Dean had jerked awake after the third word, and now he is staring at Cas with his eyes half lidded, trying to remember if his head is pounding because he had a hangover, because he had gotten too little sleep, or if Cas had woken him up from a nightmare. That had happened the few times Sam had shaken him awake when he was living in DC with his brother, and Dean had no wish to repeat those experiences. After a second he decides it’s because of the too little sleep option, and stumbles out of bed, half dressed and not prepared to face the immaculate angel.

“You alarm is going off, so I assume you are not meant to be here, but since you are still sleeping you probably were exhausted enough to ignore it, even though your hunter trained senses have been honed to wake you if there are any sounds. So Dean,” the angel continues, and Dean is _really_ not awake enough to deal with this. “How have you been sleeping?”

Dean makes a sound that probably comes between an ‘arrg’ and an ‘urp?’

Castiel looks confused, and Dean doesn’t really blame him.

His eyes are gritty, and his body is heavy with the sensation of not enough sleep, something he has known a few times, but never while he is meant to be resting, like he usually is here.

Maybe those dreams are getting to him.

“What are you doing here?” Dean finally manages to get out, and that’s when he realises that there’s an _angel_ in his apartment, and holy shit does that wake him up fast.

“Krissy and Charlie both expressed concern over your whereabouts, since it was ten minutes past the time when you usually get there, and I told them I would check with what was keeping you. I flew here, and you were present for the rest.”

Dean squints at him, rubs his forehead and grabs some clothes before walking into the bathroom.

Feeling exposed with the angel in the apartment, Dean has one of the quickest showers of his life, brushing his teeth and getting changed in under ten minutes. He looks at his suit in loathing, already despising it. It’s these kinds of days that he wishes he was just a hunter, with no responsibilities, able to do whatever he wants. He could go to a bar, relax, play some pool, flirt with some girls and maybe take one back to his hotel. It’s been too long since he’s slept with anyone.

Castiel is still in the apartment when he had finished getting changed, examining his gun collection with a critical eye.

“That firearm will back fire in two shots,” he says, pointing to one of the Glocks.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous.” Dean walks out the door, locking it behind him. Hearing the rustle of feathers, he turns to see Cas’s scowl being directed right at him.

“That was not hospitable.”

“You were the one who flapped your way in while I was sleeping, so hey, don’t talk to me about hospitality.”

Getting into the elevator, Dean raises an eyebrow when Cas doesn’t join him, and instead is waiting at the bottom.

“Your vehicles move too slowly,” Cas says defensively, and Dean opens his mouth a little at that.

“Okay, first of all, an elevator is not a vehicle.”

“It moves you around via machinery. Just because it goes up and down instead of covering distance means that it is not a vehicle?”

Dean blinks. “And second, angels get travel sick?”

“Your vehicles move too slowly,” Cas repeats, and really what can Dean say to a travel sick angel?

“Okay then. If you want to fly off to wherever then, go ahead. Otherwise, come and check out my baby.” Dean smiles. Cas probably wouldn’t appreciate the Impala, but he always liked showing her off to someone new.

“I was unaware that you had offspring Dean.”

“What – Cas. I don’t have a kid.”

The angel narrows his eyes at the nickname, but doesn’t comment. “You just told me to come and look at your child, Dean. I don’t know what else that could mean, other than your offspring.”

Dean closes his mouth, and wonders if he had got himself into a bigger hole than he had realised here.

“I meant the Impala.”

“I do not understand how your car could count as your child, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t know how to respond to Cas’s question, so he just keeps his mouth shut, getting into the driver’s seat and turning the engine on.

Cas appears with a rustle and Dean glances over to him, trying to look at the angel without _looking_ at the angel.

“Ever heard of a door handle?”

“Of course I have.”

Dean doesn’t know how to respond to that either, so he just drives.

~*~*~*~

Thus commenced the most awkward thirty two minutes of Dean’s life since Sam was growing up. While Cas sits in the passenger’s seat, never once looking uncomfortable even though apparently angels get travel sick. Dean tries to focus on the road, on the traffic, on getting to work. Exhaustion still clings to his eyes and in the migraine that was accumulating behind his forehead. While he had escaped the nightmares that plagued him last night, he knew he would have to sleep more tonight, and he’s certain that he won’t be able to catch a break, and he’d dream then too. Castiel doesn’t seem to mind the silence, but Dean had grown up with loud conversations and louder tapes when he’s driving, a tradition he continued on after John left when he was fifteen. Sam was used to it, as was the rest of the team, but he can’t make himself turn the radio on with Cas in the car. It doesn’t feel right for some reason.

Dean doesn’t like the angel. He turns up in his apartment, doesn’t understand half of what Dean says, or if he did he took it the wrong way, rigidly stuck to the rules, unlike Anna and Balthazar at least, and he never stopped _staring_.

Even now he’s doing it, and knowing that there are eyes on him, eyes of a supernatural creature, is sending ice crawling down his spine, and Dean is sure that this is the source of his increased dreams. Knowing that there is something that could easily kill him who knew about him, knew about the people he works with and cared about is feeding Dean’s nightmares. Lately they are less about random people bleeding and screaming and more the people he knows bleeding out underneath his own hands. Dean is sure that Sam would realise something is up as soon as he came down here in a week, and Dean knew that Sam would try to talk about it. He just doesn’t understand why it matters. He’s coping, he can deal, he’s managing. Maybe not as well as he could, but he’s still managing. So Sam should keep his nose in his own business.

Sighing, he carefully goes around the bends in the car park, and when he gets out this time, Cas uses the door.

“So you decided to turn up after all – whoa, Dean you look like crap.” Krissy is looking him up and down, and Dean could really do without that right now.

“Yeah yeah Krissy,” he grumbles. Cas walks off to do whatever he does in his spare time, and Dean sits down heavily at his desk, wondering how long he could keep this job if his dreams kept acting up.

“Krissy was right, you do look like crap.”

Dean raises his face from his hands, looking up at Charlie. He isn’t sure how much time has passed. “Gee thanks.”

“How many hours of sleep did you get last night?”

“I don’t feel comfortable answering that right now.”

“When would you choose to be comfortable with it?”

“Never.”

“Oh, how could I have guessed that answer? Dean you’ve been looking worse and worse all week. Just be glad that Rufus hasn’t come in yet, and all of us are willing to cover your ass.”

Dean throws a smile up at her. “Thanks Charlie.”

“Now tell me how much you’ve slept over the past couple of nights.”

“Charlie –”

“Judging by his bio-chemical levels, Dean has slept eleven hours over the last six days.”

“Wow Cas, thanks for sharing.”

“You’re welcome Dean. Judging from your brain activity right now, or lack of it, and how what is left is trembling with exhaustion, I thought that you would not have been able to remember.”

Charlie widens her eyes at him. “Thank you, Castiel.”

When no answer comes, Dean turns in his chair to see Cas poking at the water dispenser.

“So Dean,” Charlie starts, “How are you going?”

“I can’t sleep,” Dean bites out, looking over at Cas to make sure he isn’t listening, hoping that if he throws Charlie a bloody bone she’ll be happy.

The red-haired woman’s face softens a bit, but she continues. “Okay, why?”

Dean glares at her, wondering if he can find some way to change the subject. Although knowing Charlie, she would only know for sure that Dean only had something to hide, and wouldn’t let it drop. She was like that.

Sighing, Dean gives up. “I think it’s the angels. Being around supernatural creatures and not trying to kill them… It’s a trigger. And it’s screwing up my sleeping times.”

Charlie bites her lip, and Dean sees the moment where he knows that she reaches the same conclusion that he has – there’s no way of getting around this, unless Dean wants to quit his job.

“Well maybe you need you get used to them a bit more, see that they’re not going to hurt you.”

“That’s the problem though!” Dean spits out, extremely aware of Cas walking around the room. “I can’t Charlie. I can’t convince myself that they’re not here for some ulterior motive, I can’t convince myself that they’re not going to hurt me, or you, or anyone else I care about, and even if I did believe that consciously I don’t think I could make myself believe it unconsciously.”

Charlie doesn’t say anything, but when Dean looks up she’s biting her lip, staring off into the distance. Dean knows that she’s thinking, but he already knows there are no easy solutions to this problem.

“Have you dug up any hunts?” He asks instead, because that’s easier, he can deal with that conversation, and he really wants to leave the current one.

Charlie’s eyes flick to him at the change of topic, but she lets it lie. “Nothing. It’s like peace has descended upon the land. For the life of me, I can’t find anything nearby. There was something in Maine and Vermont, but I sent those over to Bill, and they were only small things too, not certain. Maybe the presence of our guardian angels have scared them off?”

Dean snorts. “Unlikely. Look, if you find anything, can you tell me please? I think if I get out of here I’ll get back to sleeping normally.”

Charlie nods. “Okay then. Where are you going?”

“To the gym. I really need to wake up.”

“And you’ll do it by hitting things until you can’t see?”

Dean silently flips her off behind his back, and listens to Charlie’s laughter as he leaves the office, a slight smile gracing his face at the sound.

~*~*~*~

_Thud thud smack hit. Thud thud smack hit. Thud thud smack hit. Thud thud smack hit._

Dean punches the punching bag a few more times before leaning back and wiping the back of his hand over his forehead. He’s been in here for nearly an hour, and all of that time had been spent hitting the garish red bag in front of him. Stripping off the bandages he had put over his knuckles to keep the skin from breaking, he starts going round the room spending ten minutes with each of the different weights, doing the different exercises.

“I admit, I do not see the point of this.”

Dean swears under his breath and stops himself from spinning and launching a weight in the angel’s face with the sheer force of his will. It’s a close call.

“Far fucking out, Cas,” Dean hisses. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Sighing, Dean leans against the wall. “And you can’t just fly in like that. This gym’s used by any member of the FBI who wants to use it. Someone could have seen you pop in.” Dean looks around. There are only a few people in here, and none of them seems to have marked the angel’s sudden appearance.

“Why?” The angel asks.

“Because not everyone knows that you exist Cas! Okay, in here they probably wouldn’t ask questions, I know I’ve seen some weird stuff and haven’t commented, but they’re civilians! Our job is to keep them safe, not expose them to the supernatural world!” Dean says lowly, confident that the angel can hear him, and making sure that the other people in the gym couldn’t.

“And this, keeping them away from the truth, you believe in this? You think it best?”

“Be quiet! And yeah, I do think it’s a good idea to keep away from the knowledge. It’d just fuck up their life, and they really don’t need that. I mean, they work for the FBI, how much more screwed can you get?”

Cas frowns. “How is working for the FBI going to make you… ‘Screwed’?”

“Well they already deal with death, danger and more danger every day. Even those who stay here and do the research are still affected by what they see. It’s not pretty Cas, it never has been and it never will be. And we, we have it worse than most. I mean, in what other unit would you see the inside out of a chupacabra’s victim, or nearly get eaten every third week on the job?”

“I do believe that this is the best place for that, yes.”

Dean looks at the angel, not realising how literally he takes everything. “Whatever. Let’s just go. And no flying off!”

Cas frowns slightly but he follows Dean out the doors of the gym instead of disappearing. Dean leads them to the photo developing lab, where he hooks up his phone and chooses the picture of Cas that he had taken yesterday. Five minutes later it’s printed, and Dean, who had already gone and gotten all of Cas’s credentials to be made into a real badge, slides the photo inside, and looks it over, making sure that there was nothing wrong.

“There you go. Your sparkly brand new badge. Now all you need is a phone.” Dean opens Cas’s trench coat and slips it into one of the inside pockets, making sure that the angel would be able to easily get it out. Cas was staring at Dean, and Dean was suddenly very aware of how close he was to the angel. “All done. You can officially call yourself one of us.”

“I do not understand how a… ‘badge’ could make me human Dean, but I do appreciate the gesture.”

Dean raises his eyebrows and resists the urge to say something snarky. Cas probably wouldn’t understand it anyway.

“I have to go and talk to Rufus, you coming?” Dean asks, not sure why, even as the words are coming out of his mouth.

“I have no other place to currently occupy.”

Dean narrows an eye at the dark haired man but decides that he’s not up for an ‘educating the angel’ session.

Knocking on Rufus’s door, Dean can feel Castiel’s presence behind him, even as the angel makes no sound whatsoever, a chill running down the back of his neck, the knowledge of unknown eyes watching him, a shiver of knowing that Dean couldn’t describe.

“What is it Winchester?” The older man asks, eyes flicking from Dean to Cas and back again.

“Rufus, since there’s no case going on, I was wondering if I could go down to Bobby’s for a bit, renew my book collection, take Jo to see Ellen before she takes her course?” Rufus never likes when you beat around the bush with asking him anything, so Dean gets straight to the point.

Rufus’s eyes flick to Castiel again before settling on Dean. “And do you feel that this would help with your… other problems?”

He’s talking about the dreams of course, and Dean takes a moment to curse Charlie creatively. “Yeah, I guess.”

Rufus purses his mouth. “I can’t let you go yet boy. We’ve just started the AHI, and you’re one of our main players. You can go the weekend after next, alright?”

“Robbing Jo of her chance to see her mum before her course. And Sam wanted to come down next weekend.”

Rufus scowls at him, but Dean knows that he has a soft spot for the older intern. “Jo can make her own way to Nebraska in the next week. I can’t have both of you out at the same time. As soon as she gets back you can go. And Sam will just have to reschedule.”

Dean’s had worse compromises, so he nods and leaves, going to find Jo to tell her that she could go and visit Ellen, making a mental note to call Sam.

Finding Jo on his way back up to the office, Dean smiles. “Are you ready to go?”

Jo looks up at him. “I don’t know if I can do this Dean. Four weeks. Four weeks, and that’s all I have to prepare before I go. I’m freaking out here.”

“Hey. You’re going to do fine. Just don’t stress too much, pace yourself so you don’t burn yourself out before the final test, and make some friends. You’ll have fun, don’t worry.” Jo just shakes her head.

“I think I’m going to explode from worry,” she confides. “What will I do about the teachers? The other students?”

“Don’t worry about the teachers, they’re all professions who know the shit that they’re teaching, and they’re good at teaching it okay? And if a student’s giving you trouble, just pull out your shotgun and threaten to fire off a few rounds.”

Jo smiles. “Yeah, yeah, okay, I‘m sure I’ll be fine.”

“That’s the spirit! But remember, until you come back, you’re technically still our intern, and right now, I need you to go and get me some coffee, because I slept less than three hours last night and I feel like I’m about to fall asleep standing up. And I talked to Rufus, and he said that you can leave anytime to go and visit the Roadhouse, as long as you’re back before your course starts.” Jo grins.

“Thanks Dean, I owe ya one.” Jo sighs, remembering that she still needs to go and grab the coffee. She snatches up the keys to her bike, so she can head down and get them the best coffee in all of Phoenix from his one small coffee shop that’s run down and slightly drab, but still produces some of the best stuff Dean’s ever tasted.

Dean’s about to sit down at his desk when he hears what he’s been longing for the past three days, something that he really needs right about now, what with the stress and the angels and the dreams, and basically it’s been all over sucky. But Charlie comes to the rescue with her weapons of computers and keyboards, finding information that no one else would be able to pick up on in time.

“Dean, I think I’ve found a hunt for you.”

Dean feels a smile curl at the corners of his mouth.


	3. And Then There Was Meg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean hates demons. Hates them. But he really needs something to do, and with the only case involving demons, and worst of all, Meg, he decides to take it anyway. He does have Cas come along, since that is what he's here for. Fighting any demons that Dean comes across.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, one day in late spring, when Dean met his first demon.

He remembers that much at least. Dean had taken Sam into the bathroom and locked him in there, not wanting the monster that John had brought home to see his little brother, or for Sam to see it. It had been in the body of a small looking weedy man with glasses, not that it needed them. John had sprayed a Devil’s Trap on the floor, and that was where he threw the demon.

Dean had been standing behind the cheap shoddy couch, staring wide eyed at the man sitting tied up in the circle in the middle of the room. John had finished tying the demon up and had looked at his eldest son.

“Don’t just stand there Dean. I’m gonna teach you how to exorcise a demon.”

Every time Dean had stumbled over the Latin incantation, John had pursed his lips and looked at Dean disapprovingly. Desperate to please his father, Dean tried to talk faster, to let the words roll out smoothly from his tongue. When the demon had started twitching, Dean had jumped, letting the piece of paper with the words on it flutter slowly to the ground. John had twisted his mouth into an ugly line and finished the exorcism.

Dean had crawled back into the bedroom, where Sam was, disobeying him even though Dean had told him that he mustn’t come out no matter what. He tried to hide the forming bruises from his brother, but even then Sam had a sharp eye, and had silently gone to the hardly working fridge to get out some cold water to put in a glass that Sam could hold against Dean’s face. Dean silently thanked him, as moving anything in his face right now was too hard and too painful.

Dean had been nine. Sam had been five.

His experiences with demons hadn’t improved over the years.

When he was hunting, he had dealt with a few cases, very distinct as in how rare they were, that involved demons. Things had been better, before Meg and Alastair had come along.

Meg is a leader, as far as Dean could tell.

Alastair is a specialist.

Meg directed, had grunts and master plans. She was someone you didn’t want to cross, and you didn’t want her to remember your name.

Dean hadn’t been that lucky. Meg had liked him from the first time he had met her, and the way that he just kept running across her every year or so, he had to assume that she sought him out, because she never seemed surprised that he was there. The final hunt before he had been asked to join the SPN unit had involved her, and it was through his planning that he had managed to get out Annie, Victor, Rufus, Bobby, Caleb, Tamara, Isaac, Ellen and Sam out alive. It had been one of the rare times that hunters had worked together, made even rarer by the fact that Bobby had called in the SPN unit as well, since mixing hunters and federal representatives had never seemed to work out well.

Bobby had picked up on something big happening, and Missouri had called to talk him into gathering as many people as he could, saying that he would need all the help he could get. Dean had convinced Sam to take a week off from Stanford to come and help, to which he had reluctantly agreed, wanting to study for some test, and meet up with a girl he had met, someone named Jess.

They had arrived too late to stop Meg’s plan, and had witnessed as too many demons to count had flown up into the air, separating and spreading in all different directions. Dean had suggested a plan, bypassing all the demons, and getting everyone out alive safely. Even though a pathway to Hell had been opened and a truckload of demons had escaped, everyone had got out alive, Dean had counted it as a win, even as he tried to ignore the guilt that ate him up from the inside, the quiet voice at the back of his head that told him that he could have stopped it, if he’d been faster, better, stronger. It reminded him of all the innocent lives that the demons could be taking, who they could be possessing, what lives they could be ruining. Dean told it to shut up, but it was persistent.

It sounded like his father’s voice, but Dean chose to ignore that as well.

And then what happened with Alastair, and the dreams that had been plaguing him ever since…

Safe to say, demons are topping the list of his least favourite things to tango with. They are hard to kill, hard to defend against, and always have a plan in motion to do something horrible to the human race in general. Not to mention the fact that every single fucking thing about them is a trigger.

So when Charlie told him that the case involves demons, Dean isn’t exactly happy.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. You said any case, and this is a case. And you have your super-secret weapon on stand-by for nuclear, Cas.”

“That is incorrect Charlie, I have more power at my disposal than a nuclear reactor.”

“There you go Dean, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Dean sees fear flash in Charlie’s eyes, and realises for the first time that the others on the team are also getting over their own innate fears of the supernatural.

They’re all here for a reason.

“Do you dislike demons Dean?” Cas asks, looking over the information Charlie had up.

“You could say that,” Dean mutters, looking at the ground. “Anyway, Charlie, gimme the info and I’ll do it.”

“Elko, Nevada has been having problems with disappearing citizens lately. Five cases have been reported in two days, and the police have been having problems with what is reported as ‘cult and religious symbols.’ And then while I was going through the cameras of the local area, I saw this.”

Charlie hands over a photo printed out on a piece of paper. It’s obviously from a security camera, but it just happens to get a solid glimpse of outside the shop as well. Dean can see a group of people, and leading the group of people is a too-familiar face.

“Meg,” he hisses out. Never seeing her ugly mug again would have been too soon for Dean.

“You know this demon?” Cas asks.

“Too well.”

“When are you going to leave?”

“I’ll get packed up and leave tomorrow morning. You need anything from me until I get back?”

“Nah, I call you if anything comes up.”

“Cool, I’ll see you when I get back then.”

“Are you sure you don’t need any back up?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with Meg on my own before.”

“Yeah, and that worked out so well.”

Dean feels his mouth twist against his will, and he swallows down his automatic response. Charlie doesn’t need that, and he doesn’t need to feel bad after telling her off.

“Thanks for the reminder,” he says instead, and Charlie flinches and mutters ‘sorry’ under her breath.

“What is your relationship with this demon Dean?” Cas asks as they walk out of the offices, Dean running over what he would need in his head, inventorying and gathering. There should be everything he needs in his apartment.

“None of your beeswax Cas.”

“You are right, I do not own any beeswax. However, you did not answer my question about the demon.”

“None. Of. Your. Business.”

Cas frowns but thankfully doesn’t push the issue. He stays behind when Dean catches the elevator down to the car park, and the angel doesn’t show up on the drive home. Dean’s grateful that he won’t have to face the questions he would ask just yet.

Collecting all of the things he would need to take on Meg, even with angelic help, took a while, as Dean has to replenish his holy water, salt and spray can supplies, but everything else he can find where he lives.

After he had everything he needed packed and ready to go, Dean turns his computer on and searches all he could find on the town where Meg had taken up residence. He doesn’t find much more than Charlie, but he does find a block of old apartment buildings that have been marked for demolition, and which witnesses have described as to having strange noises, chants, black smoke and screams coming from late at night. No one put stock in such things, no one except Dean, who had heard Meg doing these kinds of things before.

Dean swallows Pamela’s strange tasting leaves, and wishes for a dreamless sleep.

~*~*~*~

_Beep beep beep beep beep b –_

Dean shuts off his alarm, sighing softly as he realises that he had slept the night through.

Gathering his bags, Dean locks his apartment, asks Chuck to watch it, and is out on the high way towards Nevada before the sun had completely risen above the horizon.

He’s half expecting Cas to show up during the car ride, but as the hours tick by and there’s no flutter of wings in the seat beside him, Dean feels himself becoming cooler and cooler towards the angel. Because it’s winter, the sun sets earlier than it would have if it were summer, and Dean finishes the twelve hour long journey in darkness. Finding a motel is not particularly difficult, and it’s a half decent one for once.

After letting himself feel alone for a few seconds as he looks around the single room, Dean lays down all the wards, salt lines and protections against demons and all the common monsters in twenty minutes.

Two leaves of Pamela’s medicine later, Dean is lying down on his bed, eyes drooping and brain weary.

The harsh sunlight is what drags him out of sleep. Blinking rapidly and fighting the urge to let his eyelids droop again, Dean takes the cursory second to survey the room. It usually doesn’t need to be done, since there was nearly no way that anything could get inside the room, and so it took Dean a second to register that he isn’t alone after all.

“Holy crap Cas! What the hell are you doing here?” Dean slurs, throwing the covers off and sitting up, immediately regretting it and having to fight to remain in the bed instead of on the floor beside it.

“I believe that there is a group of demons set on wreaking havoc in this town Dean. That is why we are here. “

Dean groans, not up to dealing with the angel this early in the morning. “How’d you get in ‘ere anyway?”

“None of these have any effect on me Dean, or any angel. You possess no knowledge of angel banishing or warding symbols.”

“So there are things that can affect angels?” His head is pounding and his mouth feels like something’s died in it.

“Of course.” From what Dean can tell, Cas is looking at him with a slight frown, as if Dean was stupid to think that there isn’t any way that angels can be affected by things like symbols.

“I guess there’s no chance of you telling me what they are, right?”

Cas regards him silently. “You are correct.”

“Great. Now please move so I can go and throw up.”

Cas follows him into the bathroom, breaking nearly every personal space and empathy rule that Dean can think of. He stands next to the sink and watches silently as Dean hangs his head over the toilet.

“Why do I feel like I have a hangover? I don’t have a hangover. Do I?” When Cas shakes his head, Dean lets out a sigh of relief. “Well at least I didn’t go and drink myself to sleep last night.”

“You appear to be suffering from an overdose of camrine. A very rare herb, one that’s said to help those who have trouble sleeping have a long and undisturbed rest. I smell it on you, through your pores and on your breath.”

“You mean Pamela’s herbs?” He is going to throw up, and he doesn’t want to do it in front of the angel, but Cas is being annoying and standing there, so he tries to hold it back.

“I hope this Pamela gave you very specific instructions, because otherwise she may have been trying to kill you. An overdose can be fatal.”

“Oh, yeah, she told me really specifically what to do and how to take it.”

“And you ignored her?”

Dean swirls his tongue around his mouth, feeling the pins and needles shoot wherever he touched. “Maybe?”

Cas gives him a disapproving look, and shakes his head before looking at the ceiling. “Of course. You will not be sick, it is simply the effect of the herb, and how it makes you feel like you’re going to vomit. You will not though.

“But I still get the feeling. Awesome.”

“I have confirmed that there are demons in this town, but there is a powerful one among them that is shielding their presence and numbers from me. I can sense their presence in this town, and have narrowed their possible location to a few city blocks.”

“I know where they are.” Dean replies, still fighting the urge to empty his stomach, no matter what Cas says on the subject.

“Where?”

“There’s an article open on the computer.”

Cas leaves the room, and Dean lets himself take fifteen minutes to kneel and gradually feel better.

When he leaves the bathroom he finds Cas sitting in the chair in front of the computer, staring at it as if it’ll stand up and bite him.

“Awesome,” Dean mutters. “A technologically impaired angel.”

Cas is staring at the home screen, and Dean leans over him to grab the mouse and clicks on the open internet tab, bringing the article and the map of where the abandoned apartment block is. “There. That’s where Meg is.”

“Is this information reliable?”

“Yeah, Meg leaves these kinds of signs lying around. If you know what you’re looking for, then it’s not too hard to pick up on her trail, as long as she’s topside and not kicking her feet up downstairs. I’m going to go and ask some questions of the local cops, just to check and make sure I’ve got all of the relevant information, and to make sure that this place,” Dean taps the screen of the computer, pointing at the apartment complex, “Is the right place to be looking.”

“I will accompany you.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Okay then, come on.”

Dean changes into his suit and stuffs as many demon fighting and general tools onto him as he can while still remaining inconspicuous.

Walking out to the Impala, Dean feels the icy coolness of the angel’s presence as Cas follows him out to the car. The angel opens the door to slip inside, and Dean counts it as a success that he had managed to get anything to stick at all.

Dean had already found out where the police department for Elko is, and they head there, driving through the winding streets. Dean tries not to let the silence in the car get to him. The angel seems content to let the silence lay between them undisturbed. Dean is used to noise, but Cas always seems to prefer the quiet.

Without any fuss they arrive at the police department, and Dean rounds on Cas. “You still have your badge don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you know that when you introduce yourself as part of the FBI then you have to show them the badge, okay? Just hold it up in front of you. Now don’t say anything and let me ask the questions, okay?”

“Dean I wish to participate in the process.”

“What?” Dean feels his mouth hanging open somewhat, but he doesn’t do anything to close it, too stunned by what the angel was saying. “Cas you’ve never even seen someone ask questions of the local police.”

“I have watched over humanity for millennia Dean. I am sure that I will manage.”

Dean watches as Cas opens the door and walks inside.

“Oh this is so not going to end well,” Dean mutters, and follows the dark haired angel inside.

Cas approaches the front desk, and asks for the head of the office so he can speak with him. _Not too bad_ , Dean thinks, and that’s where it all starts to go downhill.

The deputy walks out and introduces himself as Deputy Framingham, shaking Dean’s hand.

“Dean Winchester, FBI.” Dean shows him his badge, and puts it away, waiting for Cas to show his. When the angel doesn’t move, Dean elbows him in the side.

Cas seems to remember that he’s supposed to show Framingham his badge as well, and he pulls it out of his coat pocket and holds it up.

Dean has to resist the urge to rub his forehead when he sees that the badge is upside down. Smoothing his face out into a hopefully unreadable mask, he leans out and flips it over the right way.

When the deputy looks at him strangely, Dean can only shrug half-heartedly and say, “He’s new.” What else could he tell him? Oh sorry this is my angelic partner who’s never interacted with another human being before please humour him? “Could we ask you a few questions concerning the disappearances you’ve been having lately?”

The deputy nods slowly, still looking at Castiel strangely.

The deputy leads them into the privacy of an office, and motions for them to sit in the two chairs that are on the other side of the desk to where Framingham sits down.

“Just a few routine ones, do you know anyone who disappeared?”

“No I do not.”

“Do you know where they are being taken, or do you have suspicions?”

“There’s rumour that they’re being kept in an old abandoned complex near the edge of town, but I went and checked it out, and there’s no one and nothing there.”

“When did you go?”

“Yesterday afternoon. Do you know what’s happening to these people officers? They’re the people of my town, and I really want to know that they’re safe and that no more are going to disappear anytime soon.”

“No, we don’t know what’s happening,” Dean says, lying through his teeth, something he normally does while on the job. Cas casts an unhappy look at him.

“It is demons,” Cas says, and Dean wants to hit him with something heavy.

“What?” The deputy asks, looking at Cas with narrowed eyes.

“Demons.” Cas says. Dean glares at him, trying to get him to be quiet.

“We don’t know where people are being taken from,” Dean tries to salvage the conversation.

“Demons.” Dean kicks Cas under the table, and Cas looks at him in bewilderedly, but keeps quiet. Finally.

“You, know, drink, adultery, could be leading people to places where they could be kidnapped. We all have our demons,” Dean says, forcing himself to laugh slightly. The other two people in the room eye him, and Dean stops laughing.

“So you know nothing about how these people are disappearing, why they’re disappearing, or how they’re connected?”

“No sir, I don’t.”

Dean gives the man his professional smile, and stands. Cas does as well. “Then thank you for your time. We’ll find your people, don’t worry.

The deputy looks at them in confusion. “Cas, let’s go,” Dean says, nodding to the deputy, who is still looking puzzled.

Dean pushes open the door, holding it for a second so Cas wouldn’t get caught in the doorway. “Well that was a waste of time. He didn’t really tell us anything other than we already knew, and you nearly broke our cover!”

“I was simply telling the man the truth. I expected that you would appreciate that statement. You put those that lie high on your list of people you don’t wish to spend time with.”

Dean rubs his forehead, not wanting to know how Cas knew about the list. “Look Cas, we don’t tell people the truth okay? It makes them nervous, and afraid, and that’s not something you want. You want people to live out their lives oblivious to all the things out there that could kill them easier than the effort they take to swat a fly. They don’t need to know that, and if you tell them that it makes them unhappy. And we want to keep them happy, keep them in the dark.”

Cas looks at him expressionlessly. “You wish to lie to people?”

“It keeps them happy and safe Cas. That’s what we’re here for. To keep them happy and safe.”

Cas doesn’t look like he understands, but Dean can see him brush off the conversation. “Then are we going to the apartment block?”

“Yeah, I’ll go back to my room and pick up my stuff, and we can go to the edge of town and kill ourselves some demons. I’m assuming angels can kill demons?”

Cas gives him a look that clearly conveys that he thinks Dean’s insane. “Of course angels can kill demons. You said that _we_ are going to go and kill demons? How can you kill a demon?”

“Oh yeah. I have a knife that kills demons. Kills the meatsuit as well, it’s a shame, but it takes care of the demon well and good.”

Cas frowns slightly. “May I see this knife?”

“Uh, sure I guess. Here,” Dean pulls the knife from his pocket. “It’s the only thing that I keep on me no matter what. You never know when you’ll need a knife that can kill the unkillable.”

“Dean.” Cas is looking at the knife in trepidation, and something in Dean twists slightly.

“Yeah Cas?”

“Where did you find this?”

“…One of Lucifer’s crypts.”

“You know where they are?” Cas asks him urgently.

“Some of them, yeah.”

“How?” Cas demands, taking a step closer.

“Whoa, Cas, calm it there. I really don’t want to talk about how I know where they are, okay? Drop it, please.”

Cas narrows his eyes but releases the knife so it falls on the ground. Dean bites his tongue and picks it up, running a hand through his hair when he stands back up.

Cas is still looking at him suspiciously. “The angels have been searching for Lucifer’s crypts for a long time, Dean. They hold the demons most prized weaponry and knowledge. Keeping that away from them is critical.”

“Yeah well very few demons know about the crypts, and they’re not guarded or anything. I seriously just broke open a door, walked in, and picked this up.”

Cas purses his lips slightly and looks over Dean’s shoulder. “Let us go and investigate the apartment block,” he says, and disappears in front of Dean’s eyes.

“I don’t think I’m going to get used to that anytime soon,” he mutters under his breath, looking around to make sure that no one saw Cas disappear.

As soon as Dean leaves the hotel room, with all the things he needs in a bag over his shoulder, himself stocked with as many weapons and lock picks as he can manage, Cas appears beside him.

“The demons are currently inside the apartment block. There are somewhere between seven and twelve of them, and there is a more powerful demon among them.”

“Meg,” Dean spits out the name while hurrying to the Impala. Cas appears in the seat next to him and Dean decides not to mention anything since he’s currently about to face down a building full of demons.

Pulling up a block away from the building, Dean gets out and checks that everything is in place. Satisfied that he’s as prepared as he’s going to be, he faces Cas.

“Do you know where the main gathering of them is?”

“There is one on the first, second, third, fifth, sixth, seventh and eighth floors. There is a gathering of no more than five plus the more powerful one on the fourth floor.”

“Great, you take the ones on the top floors, work your way down to the fourth, and I’ll get in and do the same from the bottom.” Cas looks like he’s about to protest, but Dean strides over to the building, opens the door and looks back to see if the angel is still standing there. He isn’t, so Dean goes inside.

He finds the first demon easily enough, standing at a junction of three halls and talking on a phone with her back towards Dean. As soon as she hangs up Dean goes in low, and slices through her stomach from the back. She barely has time to let out a strangled sound before the orange lightning goes through her and she lies still.

Dean has trouble locating the stairs, and he runs around looking for them for a longer amount of time than he really should have before he finds them. Going up them and opening the door is easy, but when the next demon is standing right in front of it and looking at him when he comes out Dean regards it as a bad move. He leaps towards Dean, who dodges out of the way and lets him go rolling down the stairs, making an extremely loud racket. Dean winces and jumps down the stairs three at a time in order to get to the demon in time for him to stab it before he can get his bearings again.

Skipping past the second floor, Dean arrives on the third and takes five minutes to find the next demon. Or rather, she finds him.

Slamming him up against the wall, the demon narrows her eyes slightly at Dean, like she’s trying to place a face.

“Wait, you’re one of Alastair’s, aren’t you? His stink is all over you,” she purrs, getting closer to Dean and keeping him held against the wall with one hand while the other traces his body.

The hand holding the knife is well and truly pinned, so Dean wrests the other out of her grip and throws some holy water on her. She screams, holding her hands to her steaming face and backs away, trying to get away from the water that Dean is still throwing at her. He stabs her in the heart and she falls down with her skin still smoking slightly.

“I need to have a shower after this,” he mutters, flicking the blood off his fingers before heading towards the staircase.

Dean goes up the next set of stairs carefully, and listens at the door before opening it. It sounds like a full on melee is going on between two parties, and remembering that Cas said there was five demons plus Meg up here, Dean decides to quit wasting time and lend a hand to his angel.

Cas whirls past the door as Dean opens it, chasing a demon in order to get his hands on it. Quite literally, Dean guesses as he sees the smoking corpses of the demons, their faces burnt off and looking nauseously squishy.

Meg is standing in the corner with another demon, and her face lights up when she sees Dean.

“Dean-o! You’ve come and joined the party at last!”

Dean ignores her and rushes her body guard, who leaps at Dean. The demon lands on top of Dean, and he tries to breathe through the stench of sulphur. Dodging a punch aimed at his head that goes through the concrete underneath his fist, Dean takes advantage of the opportunity to stab the demon, heaving it off of him in order to stand up and look at Meg.

Dean hears the rest of the commotion in the room die down, and guesses that Cas must have finished killing all of the other demons.

Sure enough, Cas silently joins Dean at his side, looking at Meg.

“Well hello Clarence,” Meg says, and Dean feels something inside him rear up at the nickname, something dark and ugly, and he quickly shoves it down because this is no place to be feeling that. There is _no_ place or time to be feeling that. Ever.

Cas narrows his eyes. “What are you doing here?” He asks instead, and Dean looks at Meg and waits for her answer.

“Oh you know, this place is on a ley line, and I needed a few of those to do what I needed to do. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you Clarence?”

“Do you know where it is?” Cas asks.

“Cas? What are you talking about?”

Cas ignores Dean, devoting the intensity of his stare to Meg.

“Well this is a locating spell, so, what do you think sweet cheeks? Anyway, it’s done, see you two later. Toodles!”

Meg disappears. “Can’t you track her or something?” Dean asks in desperation.

“No. Demons are hidden from angels.”

“Of course they are. Of friggen course.”

When Dean turns to look at Castiel, the space that had been occupied by the angel is empty. “Fucking angels,” he says to the empty room.

~*~*~*~

“And that all that happened?” Charlie quizzes him from the other side of the desk.

“Yeah, we showed up, kicked some demon ass, Cas asked some real weird questions like he knew what Meg was talking about, and they both left. I cleaned up the bodies and drove straight here.”

“Like Cas knew what Meg was talking about?”

“Yeah, well that’s the thing,” Dean looks around and lowers his voice, leaning in slightly. Charlie raises her eyebrows as she does the same. “What Cas was saying – it was like he was knew what Meg was talking about, and he wanted to know if she knew where it was, so he could get it. Meg knew he was looking for it, I’m sure. What she said before she disappeared, it sounded like she knew what Cas wanted, and she was taunting him, saying that the demons are ahead of the angels or something, using a tracking spell. That’s why I think he’s gone now, has been gone ever since the fight with them, he’s reporting to the whoever’s orders he runs on, and they’re all piecing together the little hints that she was dropping throughout the conversation, trying to find whatever he was asking about.”

Charlie frowns slightly, and Dean sees the lines in her forehead that are starting to be there more often, the lines that make her look older and wearier. Dean wants erase them, wants the crow’s feet at the edges of her eyes to grow bigger, not the worry lines on her forehead. Ever since the whole bullshit with the angels started he’s seen her frowning more and laughing less.

“I’ll look into the angels wanting something, Dean, but I don’t know if it’s likely. And if it is, I’m going to have to extremely careful.”

“Why? Just because they’re angels?”

“Yes,” she hisses. “Yes because they’re angels, and because everyone who knows about them except some of us here want them to be good, need them to be good, just to know that there’s something out there greater than them, working for the good of humanity, and at the end of the day, they’ll be there when they’re gone. You’re only disbelieving because you can’t find it in you to trust any supernatural creature after what happened with Alastair, I can’t believe that they’re totally good if they let all this crap happen in the first place and the rest of us just think it’s too good to be true, except for Jo, because she hasn’t seen any of her friends die in front of her, doesn’t know what it’s like to know that you’re the only one who is going to care if you disappear, if you stop being you, if you use so many fake names you start to forget what your real one is. No one wants them to have a secret agenda, because if they do, what does that say about us? I’ll have to tread carefully with this one Dean. Very carefully.”

Dean runs a hand through his hair and nods. He feels the tiredness running through him, and he wants to go and crash but at the same time he’s dreading what dreams he’ll have tonight.

“Look, I’m tired and I need to go and unpack. If anyone comes by tell them I’ve gone home, okay?”

Charlie agrees and goes back to her typing.

~*~*~*~

Dean’s phone is chiming, chiming, and he digs through his bag to find it.

“Hey Dean, I know it’s late, but I wanted to call you now rather than in the morning.”

“I’m up, Sam.”

Dean can nearly _hear_ the way that Sam narrows his eyes and tilts his head judgementally.

“Still having problems with the dreams then?”

Dean licks his lip. “So what were you calling for?”

Sam sighs, but Dean isn’t going to talk to Sam now, or later, or ever if he can help it.

“Can you come up and be a witness at a case I’m on? I know I said I’d be coming down to visit this weekend, but you can come up here, and I’d still get to see you while working?”

“If you came down here then I’d get to see you, you could bring some of your dusty books and we could have a fun time sitting round working out asses off. Here. Where there’s no chance of me going near a plane.” Dean had been meaning to call Sam but hadn’t gotten around to it. Now that his brother is asking him however, Dean can’t pass up the opportunity to needle him a bit.

“I get paid a lot of money to translate those texts. Don’t call them dusty.”

“You did always look at the big picture Sam. And they are kind of dusty.”

“No but this is an important case, and I just need a witness and you worked on this one, so it’s perfect.”

“God, which one?”

“From May 2002,where there was a gardener and he disturbed the grave of that spirit, remember? It knocked me out and you freaked because you thought I was dead?”

“Oh, yeah, that, I know that. Well I can ask Rufus, but no promises.” Dean always remembered the cases where Sam was injured, and that had been a pretty serious one. Sam had broken four ribs and a leg, but while he had been lying there unconscious, Dean had thought he was dead.

“Thank you Dean. You can come and crash here for a few days, and spend some time with us.”

“I don’t think so Sam. You probably get too little sleep as it is, me being there isn’t going to help. I’ll book a motel, and everyone can sleep easier.”

“Dean.” Sam’s voice is on the ‘you can’t argue with me I’m a lawyer’ setting, and Dean sighs, already knowing that he’s going to cave. “You are not going to sleep at some random motel room just so me and Jess can maybe get some more sleep when the chances of that happening are literally none.”

“I haven’t slept in the last two days Sam. I feel like I’m about to crash, so can you hang up so I can call Rufus and I’ll text you back okay?”

Sam lets out a breath and Dean can feel him nodding over the phone. “Fine. But you are not sleeping at a hotel while you’re here. And the case is in a few days, so the sooner you can get up here the better, okay?”

Dean hangs up and brings up Rufus’s number. It rings for two sets and the grumpy voice of the older man comes through the receiver. “Dean? What are you calling about this late at night?”

“Can I head over to DC to be a witness in one of Sam’s cases? Got to keep him in business, and I’m the only witness other than himself and I’m eighty per cent sure he can’t interview himself.”

“As long as you find a way to get some sleep boy. I’ve seen the shadows under your eyes. You need to relax, and if that’ll happen if you go to DC then sure, fine, whatever. I can’t have my best team member down. And you have to fly. I can’t have you away for as long as it would take for you to drive.”

Dean releases out a strained breath. “Really? You’re gonna make me fly?”

“Your choice boy.”

Dean purses his lips. “Fine, I’ll go. But I’m not forgetting this.”

“You can not forget this all you want, and it won’t make any difference.”

Dean sighs and hangs up, permission received even if he didn’t like it.

He sent a text to Annie and Charlie telling them he’s going up to Sam’s to witness on one of his cases. Charlie texts back almost immediately.

 **> > have a good trip!!!! and** **go 2 sleep rite now!!!**

Dean rolls his eyes and sends a text to Sam saying he had the permission and that he would be flying up. Sam acknowledges it, and tells him when the court is gathering. Dean turns his phone off and his computer on, trying to ignore the grittiness of his eyes and the weariness that’s running through his bones. Booking his flight for the morning, he sets his alarm so he can still get up in time to catch it.

He feels like he doesn’t need to use Pamela’s leaves tonight, so he lays down on the bed and he feels that before he could close his eyes the alarm is buzzing him awake again. Dean stares at it blearily, wondering if his brother would hate him if he went back to sleep and missed his flight.

Oh god his _flight_.

Dean had been trying not to think about the flight.

Flying scares him shitless, and Rufus _knows_ this, knows that he hates it with a passion that edges on manic. He pushes the impending flight out of his mind, and packs his bag, showers, and locks up his apartment before racing down to street level. Catching a taxi, he sits through the traffic and watches as his city comes to life around him. People stream through the streets, the traffic becomes heavier and he makes it to the airport an hour and a half before his flight leaves. He texts his arrival time to Sam, who texts back immediately.

**> > You’re coming today?**

**< < i thought id get it over with**

**> > Okay, I’ll tell Jess and pick you up when you get here.**

Dean turns his phone off and puts it in the tray for it to be scanned, and puts it in his pocket when he gets it back. He feels rather naked with all of his weapons, picks and back up gone, only the things that would remain unidentifiable on a scanner on him. That’s hardly anything though, and Dean is constantly looking around him, wondering how civilians can stand to be this exposed all the time.

It’s only when he sits down on the flight and the door closes that he starts to panic.

Putting his earphones in, he selects a random track from his Metallica albums. The thrum of the music goes through his headphones comfortingly, and Den tries to ignore how the plane starts to move around him. He takes a deep breath and holds it, trying to slow his breathing down.

Four and a half hours. He can do this.

He makes it until the planes levels out before he throws up.

~*~*~*~

“Dude you owe me,” Dean groans as his brother looks at him in alarm.

“Are you okay?”

“I just spent over four hours on a plane, do you think I’m okay?”

Sam takes his bag and puts it into his car, some new age one that Dean doesn’t want to know or think about his brother driving. Holding his head in his hands after he slides into the passenger seat, Sam shoots him a concerned look. “Did you sleep on the plane?”

Dean looks at him like he’s crazy. “Of course I didn’t sleep on the plane. It’s a death trap, why would I sleep on it?”

Sam releases a breath and shoots a look over at Dean before he pulls out from the parking space. “You’ll live.”

“Only just,” Dean mutters, staring out the window. DC is different to Phoenix, more crowded both in buildings and people. Sam navigates the streets with ease, something that comes from the experience of living here for years. Sam and Jessica live on the outskirts of the city, away from the hustle of the main hub. They have an actual house, and every time Sam sees Dean’s apartment he manages to find a way to ask him if he is planning on buying a house anytime soon. Dean seemingly can’t convince his brother that he is perfectly happy with the space he has now.

When they pull into the driveway, the lawn is neat, and Dean can see that Jess is growing some sort of plant in the garden in front of the house, but since it was winter it just looks like a few sticks poking up from the ground with a few rounded and dead looking leaves on them.

Sam is still holding his bag, and Dean had to grab it from Sam before he could enter the house. Sam unlocks the door and walks inside, obviously expecting Dean to follow. The clean and modern house is white and open to the air, and very contemporary. Dean can almost smell the money that’s gone into the place, and he smiles at the proof of Sam’s success.

Jess comes around the corner of the living room, and Dean fights back a smile at her rounded belly. “Dean! So glad you could make it, sit down, sit down, you don’t look well.”

“Like I was telling Sam, I just spent over four hours on a plane.”

“And with your fear for flying must have made that difficult. Let me grab you a beer, both of you, and you can catch up while I finish making food.” Jess walks off into a different part of the house, moving with care as she rounds the corner.

“I just kind of want to sleep,” he confesses to Sam.

“Then go and lie down for a few hours. You must have gotten up early today, and don’t think I forgot about how you told me you haven’t slept in two days.”

Dean rubs his hand over his eyes. “Sleep deprivation. Besides I slept for three hours last night.”

Sam doesn’t say anything and Dean looks up to see that his brother has his worried face on. “Go get some sleep Dean,” he says gently. “We’ll still be here.”

Sam hauls him up by the shoulder and drags him over to the guest room where Dean stays when he comes over, and Dean only fights his brother half-heartedly. “Go to sleep.”

Dean watches as his brother gives him a last look and closes the door before eyeing the bed with trepidation. Hoping that being away from everything would calm his dreams, he lays down on top of the covers and closes his eyes.

~*~*~*~

At least his dreams aren’t about Alastair this time, Dean muses tiredly. The falling sensation is still trying to get his stomach to regurgitate its contents, and Dean is trying valiantly to keep them inside. Taking a shower had removed most of the stale sweat, and now he is just looking in the mirror above the sink, studying himself.

His eyes are bloodshot and the normally vibrant green of his pupils have been reduced to a washed out olive. There are dark shadows under his eyes, and the lines in his face are more apparent than ever. His skin looks sallow next to the white of his shirt, and Dean can see the fatigue that shadows every angle of his face. He looks ten years older than he is, and he tries to ignore the few grey hairs that are becoming more apparent throughout his hair.

No wonder Sam and half the airport had been looking at him worriedly.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Dean puts on some clothes. He had slept for a decent amount of time, since it was seven in the morning, and he can hear movement in the kitchen. When he walks out he finds his brother dolloping yoghurt on top of some muesli.

“How are you even related to me?” Dean asks, looking at Sam’s breakfast with disdain.

Sam sighs. “This is good for you Dean.”

“Yeah well. Do you have any real food?”

“We have some ham in the fridge, I’m pretty sure.”

Dean eyes his brother and wonders why God hates him. Managing to find some cereal at the back of one of the cupboards, he pours himself a bowl of that, even though Sam claims that he’s not sure how it got there.

“Probably some weird craving of Jess’s,” Dean says, poking at the cereal.

Sam looks floored by the revelation. “So that’s where all the food’s been going,” he mumbles. “Look, I have to go, so just hang around here, the case is tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. You have cable here, don’t you?”

Sam smiles. “Of course. After growing up in all of those dodgy motels I needed good TV no matter what. Jess complains that it’s a ridiculous amount to pay, but she doesn’t say anything when we get every channel around.”

“Awesome.”

Sam smiles and inhales the last of his muesli, dumping the bowl in the sink and grabbing his bag, yelling goodbye to Jess and waving at Dean.

Dean wonders into the living room and flicks the TV on, smirking when he goes through the channels and realises that there’s a Doctor Sexy MD marathon on. An hour into it, Jess comes down and sits next to him on the couch with a tub if ice cream in her lap that she takes a spoonful of every few minutes. Dean watches as she slowly falls asleep and the spoon falls out of her hand. He stands and plucks the ice cream tub from her hands lightly, putting it back in the freezer. He comes back into the lounge room and settles back down next to Jess, and when he feels his eyes begin to droop, he doesn’t fight the feeling.

Dean is startled awake by Sam placing his laptop against the couch where his head is leaning.

“So you had a good day then?” Sam asks teasingly, but Dean can see the worry that lurks underneath his brothers eyes.

“What – uh, yeah Sammy. I must have fallen asleep.” Dean looks around and sees Jess snoring on the other end of the couch. “Is she always this loud?” He asks.

Sam nods forlornly.

“Did you do anything interesting today, or just your normal lawyer slash translator stuff?”

“Kevin finished the text he’s been working on for the last three months, so he was pretty pumped about that. I don’t know how the kid manages it. He’s younger than me, and yet he’s fluent in at least seventeen languages, is fairly proficient in fifty more, and can recognise anything you put in front of him. Ancient Sumerian is a dead language, but he somehow managed to decode it. Some pretty useful stuff in there as well.”

“Good for him,” Dean says. “I’m going to call Charlie, make sure everything’s okay down there. You gonna wake Jess?”

“No, don’t. She needs the rest.” Sam looks down on his wife with a tender smile and love in his eyes. It makes Dean content to know that his brother is happy in his life, even if that means that he sees less of him than he wants to.

“You can just do whatever until tomorrow. The trial starts at nine, and I need you to be ready to come with me when I leave at seven. You brought your suit, right?”

Dean nods. “I still think it’s too formal.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s fine.” Sam rubs his eyes. “I’m going to go and get sleep for tomorrow okay? Remember, seven.”

“Yeah Sammy, I got it.”

Sam gently picks up Jess and takes her upstairs.

Dean fished his phone out of his pocket and dials Charlie, waiting for her to pick up.

“Dean? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just checking to makes sure that everyone fine,” Dean says, picking at a loose thread in his shirt.

“Annie and Ash teamed up to go and look at a case that is probably a shape shifter, so they’ll be gone for a week or so. Other than that, it’s all quiet here. Victor can walk on his own, but the doctor said not to strain it, so he’s staying at home for another few days, not that he’s happy about it. Everything’s quiet, your angel is hanging around, Anna popped in to speak with Jo an hour ago, and Rufus and Uriel are in his office talking about something. I’m about to go home. Do you know when Sam’s trial is?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Then how on earth were you planning to drive there?”

Dean frowns. “Yeah, well I would have managed it.”

“So you’ll be back in three, four days?”

“Yeah, I’ll spend some time with Sam and Jess before heading back.”

“Okay Dean. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Get some rest.” Charlie’s voice is soft, and Dean purses his mouth at the tone that she’s using.

Dean doesn’t say anything and Charlie exhales loudly into the phone. “Sleep! Now!” She says before hanging up.

Deciding not to push his luck with the sleep, Dean turns the TV back on, not caring which channel it lands on. He lets it lie on some kind of cheesy horror flick, and tries not to fall asleep.

~*~*~*~

“Dean?”

Dean has Sam pinned on the floor of the living room before his brother can finish the word.

Letting out a deep breath, Dean glares at Sam. “Fuck, Sammy you scared me. And your reflexes are getting loose if you let me pin you that easily. Don’t wake me while I’m sleeping, okay?” Dean relaxes his hold on his brother, letting him up before he stretches. “What’s the time?”

“Quarter past six. Go and get ready, and we’ll leave at seven,” Sam replies. He looks slightly shaken, and Dean feels a touch of guilt.

Dean shakes his head to get rid of the last vestiges of sleep, showers, puts his suit on, and gobbles down some more cereal. “I’m ready to leave,” he says, looking around the kitchen for Sam. “Sam? Where are you?”

Sam comes down the stairs with his briefcase and laptop. “Ready to go? Great.”

They get in Sam’s demonic car, and drive for twenty minutes to Sam’s work. The whole time Sam goes over what he needs Dean to say in order to prove his point to the court.

“Just tell the truth,” Sam sums up as they pull into the car park.

Dean waits in a room until Sam calls him, and then answers all the questions that his brother asks him. Dean doesn’t know the importance of half of them, but he answers anyway, and Sam smiles at him when he is told to leave.

Dean talks up a woman who is also sitting in the waiting room, not for Sam’s case but for another that is going on at the same time. When she’s called up Dean finds a piece of paper with the name Rebecca and a number on the seat where she had been.

Dean picks it up, wondering if he’d call her.

Sam came in twenty minutes later, smiling widely and with a gleam of triumph in his eyes. “We got it! We won the case, the shopkeeper got sued, and we got paid!” Sam crows, success pouring out through every part of him. “I have to finish up the paperwork, do you want to come back into the office and meet the gang?”

Sam is looking at him, waiting for his answer. Dean looks at where the girl – _Rebecca_ – had been sitting and stands up, casting the piece of paper into the bin on his way out, not looking back.

~*~*~*~

Jess makes a pot roast in celebration. It has to feed ten, because Sam has invited over all of his lawyer friends, those that work in the firm alongside him. Dean loses track of the names after a while, but he does remember a few. Kevin, a young Asian man, is the one that Charlie raves about all the time. Adam, a younger man who was against Sam and now has to live with Sam holding that over him until he can prove his own, and Andy, who apparently can convince anyone of anything. Dean thinks the last one should be taken with a grain of salt, but the skill must be handy in a courtroom. Dean tells Kevin about Charlie and Kevin smiles slightly.

“I try my hardest. Sam’s more impressive than me, honestly. He doesn’t know all the languages that I do and he manages to understand and translate almost as fast as me.”

“Yeah, my little brother’s pretty awesome,” Dean replies, before he is whisked off by Jess to help make dessert. Jess is probably regretting asking him to help when Dean tries to eat most of the ice cream before she can even put it on the plates, and nearly sneaks off with the entire pie when she isn’t looking.

Adam looks like he could be related to Sam, with his hair and body structure. Sam says that Adam is the one he works most closely with, and is one of his closest friends. Dean shakes his hand and says that he’s glad to meet him.

Ansem, Ava, Jake and Lily are the others that Sam invited over, and Dean talks to them all in the next few hours. When they leave, Dean thinks that his brother has a pretty good life here.

Jess asks him to clean up, since she’s feeling exhausted, and Dean ushers her upstairs nearly before she can finish the sentence. He knows that she really is tired when she doesn’t complain once.

Another hour goes past, where Dean washes, wipes and cleans every surface he can find, and Sam joins him for a bit before going upstairs as well. Dean doesn’t begrudge his brother, since he spent the entire day on a high, first from nerves and adrenaline and then from happiness.

Dropping off to sleep in the spare room, Dean thinks that this may have been exactly what he needed when he doesn’t dream about anything.

Sam doesn’t get up for an hour after Dean does, and Dean spends the time looking through his brother’s cupboards for any actual food, smirking to himself when he keeps finding items like chocolate, strange looking fruits, and a pile of McDonald’s receipts in different corners the cupboards. He leaves those alone, and is making bacon and eggs in a pan when Sam confusedly comes down the staircase, blinking and rubbing his eyes.

“Does Jess want any?”

“She says that if you don’t make her any she’ll rip yours out of your stomach and eat them like that.”

“Wow. Okay then. Adding more bacon and eggs, check.”

Dean pops the last toast down in the toaster as Jess comes down. Eyeing the food, she waits until Dean has completed putting the food on one plate before she grabs it and puts it on the dining table, eating like the world depends on it. Dean and Sam watch her fondly, before Dean nudges Sam with a plate of his own. Dean finishes making his own breakfast just as Jess finishes and steals his plate as well.

“Hey!” Dean says, watching in dismay as that begins to disappear as well.

“Remember what I said about the ripping thing?” Jess asks through a mouthful of food, so it sounds more like ‘rememer wha I sad bout ta rippin thang?’

“Still,” Dean laments. “Food.” He picks up the lone piece of bacon that survived, and eats that before Jess can steal it as well.

~*~*~*~

Dean stays for two more days and three nights before he books his plane ride for early in the morning. The whole time Jess either eats, sleeps, watches TV with Dean and occasionally complains about how there’s no baby brochures anywhere. Sam has the first day off, and then he’s constantly translating in his office, his dictionaries around him and the whole place reeking of old book.

They both hug him, and although Dean might put up a fuss, he likes the attention and he’s pretty sure that the others see right through him and know that he likes it.

Catching a taxi towards the airport, he goes through the process of boarding the plane more leniently than usual, being with his brother for a few days putting his tolerance levels up. He still can’t ignore the fact that he is boarding a plane however much he tries, and as the departure time gets closer and closer he becomes more and more nervous.

Dean eyes the boarding area with apprehension. Sighing, he walks up and goes through. Plugging his earphones in, he turns his music up so he can’t hear the engines turning over.

Pleased with himself for not throwing up as the plane levels out, Dean listens to his music repeat itself, starting the tracks again.

Humming along to the music, Dean almost misses the small fluttering sound next to him, and it’s only the hunter instincts that have saved his life so many times that had him snapping his eyes open and jerking away from the empty seat next to him.

Or the not so empty seat next to him.

Cas looks calmly at him. “Have I told you that you’re going to give me a heart attack one day?”

“Yes. Though I don’t see how I could influence the blood in your heart, making it clot and sending you into cardiac arrest.”

“You’re gonna scare me to death one day Cas. I mean it. With your whole disappearing reappearing act.”

“Flying is how I travel Dean. It would not make any sense to move as you do when I can move to where I want to when I want to be there.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t rub it in. Do you have any reason for being here, besides scaring the living shit out of me, and potentially, freaking out the airplane people when they realise that they have one more passenger then they expected?”

“The other people cannot see me.”

“So I look like I’m talking to myself?”

“Yes.”

“Awesome,” Dean says. _Now everyone’s going to think I’m nuts._

“Rufus asked me to find you and tell you that he has not heard from Annie and Ash since they left for Arkansas. It’s been three days, and they normally check in every day. He told me that as soon as you get back we shall leave to check on them.”

Dean rubs his eyes. _At least I got a decent amount of sleep last night_ , he thinks. “Crap. Ash always makes sure to call every day.”

“That is what Charlie said.”

“We’ve got,” Dean checks his watch. “Two hours on this death trap left, and then an hour for me to gather my stuff, and then two days to drive there. By which time it’ll probably be too late to save them from whatever had them.”

Cas doesn’t say anything, and Dean looks over to the angel, only to see his empty seat. Dean shakes his head and puts his music back on, contemplating how his life has changed in the last few weeks.


	4. To The Roadhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Annie and Ash missing, Dean has to rely on Castiel's help. Doesn't mean he's happy about it, even though the angel is useful to have around.

Castiel watches as Dean talks to Rufus and gathers his weapons, preparing for his journey to Arkansas. Rufus gives Dean all the relevant information, and Castiel can feel Uriel hovering around his given partner, watching, but not wishing to interact with the humans. Castiel has never understood his brothers disdain them, how Uriel and Balthazar look down on the humans that they work and relate with.

Castiel watches Dean mostly. It has more to do with the fact that he is immensely interested with this small human and less to do with the fact that he was assigned to be Dean’s partner.

Well, not assigned really. It was Castiel’s watching that first brought him to this place, when he observed Dean’s soul for the first time. Zachariah had made himself known to the ones who run the building, and they had in turn told Dean and those that he worked with.

Castiel had begged, pleaded, pulled in favours, and reasoned with Zachariah, all trying to convince the superior angel that he should be assigned Dean as a partner instead of Uriel or Zachariah himself. He had said that Dean would cooperate better with him than them, but he had had to say it tactfully, since he did not want to offend either of his siblings. Castiel had, with the support of Anael, been given Dean as his charge and partner on earth.

When Castiel had first looked at his soul nearly two years ago, it had been more tattered and shredded than it is now. The creases and tears in the soul had slowly been knitting together, until recently, when they had begun to tear anew once more.

This had puzzled Castiel, but he saw no way he could fix it, so he did not bring up the topic with Dean.

Out of all the humans that Castiel had watched over millennia of being assigned to look over earth, Dean was the most intriguing soul Castiel had ever come across. He is broken, shattered, and yet still kept going, learning and fixing, and somehow even through its tears and scratches, Castiel can see a steady light, something that shines no matter what state the rest of Dean’s soul is in. It is fascinating, that light, which draws Castiel in like a moth to flame, and is just as deadly.

It was the main argument he had presented to his superiors to convince them that Dean was the one they needed. When they had witnessed Dean’s soul, they too had agreed, but Castiel had thought that they did not feel the same pull that he did, the urge to return to the human time after time.

It had started out as purely business, but over an alarmingly short period of time Castiel found himself studying Dean’s soul simply because he wished to, simply because he found it beautiful to look at.

He made sure that his Grace was shielded from the Host when he spent time in Dean’s apartment so that no angel could find him without asking for his location. He made sure that none of his thoughts on Dean made it out to his siblings, except for the ones he wished to share.

Castiel had never tried to hide things from his family before, and he is realising why those that tried could never keep it up for long. The constant strain of having to control what you are thinking about is very draining, especially when he is prone to think of Dean anytime during the day, when something reminded him of the human.

More and more things are beginning to remind Castiel of Dean.

The human is slowly but surely worming his way into Castiel’s thoughts, suddenly there when he should not be. It is beginning to make Castiel rather annoyed, both at his thoughts and the subject of them. He is not used to not having control over his own mind.

Maybe that is why he waits until Dean is in Arkansas to appear to him. Most of the time he spends invisibly watching Dean, as he either sleeps or drives. Sometimes Anael would tell him that Zachariah wished to see him, and he would cast one last look at Dean before flying to Heaven to answer whatever questions Zachariah had for him. He tries to keep it as short as possible, each time wanting to return to Dean so he could watch over the human.

“Cas,” Dean said. Since Castiel had been sitting on the couch in Dean’s motel room and had not appeared next to him, Dean had not jumped and swore or blasphemed when he had become aware of Castiel’s presence.

Castiel tries to frown at the nickname, but it is becoming more and more natural to respond to the shortened version of his name. Especially when it comes out of Dean’s mouth.

Dean doesn’t look entirely pleased to see him, but he also doesn’t appear unhappy to see Castiel either, so he supposes he can stay.

“Hello Dean,” Castiel responds. The green eyed man pulls on a shirt, having just got out of the shower.

“You weren’t perving on me in the shower were you?” The hunter asks, a thread of humour running over the concern in his voice.

Castiel blinks, and tilts his head slightly. “I see no reason why I would ‘perve’ on you while you were cleaning yourself. Especially since I could know and see your physical form anytime I wished.”

Dean’s mouth fell open slightly, and he splutters out a _“What?”_

“Your clothing is simply layers of fabric. They are no barrier to an angel’s eye, if we wish to see what is underneath.”

Dean has his mouth parted slightly and his soul is letting off low levels of distress. It is hard to see past the tattering, but Castiel can divine that much.

“You haven’t ever looked at me, have you?” The human’s voice was several notes higher than usual, and Castiel was once more confused by humans. Why would Dean’s voice rise?

“Why would the pitch of your voice rise, Dean?” Castiel asks him. Dean’s eyes widen slightly and Castiel watches in fascination as blood diverts to his cheeks, staining them red.

“No reason. No reason at all,” Dean says. Castiel feels his mouth purse slightly, and he’s momentarily distracted by the way that he’s picking up human habits against his will.

He’s confused, since Dean’s voice has risen another note, but since Dean looks uncomfortable, Castiel decides to go back to the original topic.

“No, I have no reason to look at you. Why would I want to?” It would not be something that Castiel would avoid, but that is simply because he sees Dean for his soul. It is harder to see the cotton overlaying him than it is to simply watch the ebb and flow of his soul, and listen to the rhythmic tone of his voice. Castiel is not sure why the humans place so much value on what they put over their bodies. It is one of the things that make them so very strange, he decides. Maybe it is because they cannot see each other’s souls.

“Oh, um, cool, I guess.” The blood that had run to Dean’s face is now staining his neck as well.

Castile decides that yes, humans are very strange creatures.

“Have you contacted Annie or Ash yet?” Castiel asks, sure that Dean would appreciate talking about his work rather than whatever they were talking about classified as.

He sees that his right when Dean takes a deep breath to calm himself, and Castiel watches in interest as he sees Dean’s soul shifting, becoming more focused and formal. More businesslike, Castiel presumes.

“Yeah, I’ve tried to find them and I’ve come up with nothing so far. I found the hotel that they were staying in, but the manager told me that they had not been through in four days, and that he didn’t know where they had gone on the last day that they had disappeared. He gave me the key to the apartment after I showed him my badge and he called Rufus to confirm that I was serious, and I found no clues there as to what they were doing that day, and no leads in the hunt. Annie keeps it all in a notebook that she keeps on her at all times, and that’s not there, so I don’t know where they were up to, or what they suspected. All I know is what they told Charlie, and all that that is that they suspect that it’s a shape shifter, and that it’s nesting in the hills and caves just past town, and coming in for a snack and a bite to eat whenever it gets the nibbles.”

“If you wish, I can search the town for traces of them,” Castiel offers. He’s not sure why until he sees Dean smile tiredly at him. It wakes something inside Castiel, and he takes a moment to check that he is not connected to the Host, to make sure that no one else is listening to his thoughts and feelings. There isn’t, and he stretches his wings for a second in relief before turning his attention back to Dean.

“That’d be great, thanks Cas.”

Castiel nods slightly and opens his wings, carefully going through the town, checking every room and building for traces of two souls that are more familiar than the rest. He finds traces of them in the very small sewer system and at some houses where grief and despair hang and Castiel has to duck and weave around the dark shadows of its presence.

He does not find Annie or Ash, but he tells Dean of the traces that he felt while investigating the town. Only five minutes have passed, and Castiel can tell that Dean is trying not to be impressed with what the angel accomplished.

“Yeah, they would’ve gone down to the sewers to make sure that the shape shifter couldn’t live down there, and the sad houses would be the family of the victims. I’d say that they’re in the caves.” Dean starts to gather equipment, torches and ropes for climbing, silver bullets and guns for defence against the shape shifter.

“Are you planning to leave now?” Castiel asks. He can see weariness blooming from Dean’s soul and can hear the creak and groan of his muscles and bones as he stands.

“Yeah. If I wait until morning then who knows what could happen to them during the night.”

Castiel thinks that it would be better if Dean slept and rested before going up against the shape shifter, but Dean would know what is best for his body.

“Very well,” Castiel says. He would fly Dean to the cave system, but that would mean doing what he is not yet prepared to do simply for the convenience of travelling quickly.

He walks next to Dean and opens the door to the car. He spends the entire drive watching Dean seeing the unease that was gradually edging its way through Dean’s soul, but he keeps watching, content to look until Dean asks him otherwise.

“Can you stop doing that?” Dean finally asks, and Cas can hear the discomfort running through his tone.

“Of course,” he replies, turning to look straight out the window for a few minutes, before he unwillingly begins to watch Dean in the rear view mirror instead. Dean seems oblivious until he looks upwards to check the cars behind them and swerves as his eyes meet Castiel’s, swearing under his breath.

“Really Cas?”

“My apologies.” Castiel lowers his brows for a second, taking his eyes off Dean and once more looking forwards. He is an angel. He should be able to control himself.

When he feels his eyes once more slowly moving towards Dean again, he yanks his gaze forward. Why did the human have this effect on him?

“I need to speak with Anael,” Castiel tells Dean. He barely gives the human a second to look over to him before he spreads his wings and soars upwards, searching for his sister’s Grace. When he cannot find it, he sends a message to her.

_Anael where are you?_

_Castiel? Is anything wrong?_

_Nothing urgent. I wish to speak with you._

Anael reveals her location, standing in the currently empty viewing platform in a large building. Castiel flies towards it, and Anael looks as composed as usual when he appears in front of her.

“Yes Castiel? What is bothering you?”

Now that he is standing in front of his sister, Castiel shifts his weight from foot to foot, stopping himself when he realises what he is doing. Anael looks at him knowingly, and Castiel knows that she can make time for him, that she will listen to him if he asks her to stay. Anael is the leader of their garrison, and Castiel is second in command. However, even if this were not true, Castiel believes that Anael would still make the time for him.

“Castiel?” Anael is starting to look concerned.

“I believe I may be… malfunctioning.”

Anael frowns and he feels it when she hides their presence and their thoughts from Heaven. He shakes off the exhaustion that suddenly weighs on his wings. More lies, more things to hide from Heaven, from his family.

“What do you mean Castiel?” Anael takes a step closer. Castiel knows that of all his siblings Anael would be the one to understand the most. No angel can truly understand emotions, and that is what Castiel fears the most out of his current situation. Emotion. Even the fact that he fears it is a sign of it. Castiel knows that Anael considered falling several decades ago, and even though he talked her out of it, she kept the edge of humanity she gained just by considering it.

Castiel is mostly afraid because only fallen angels feel.

He opens his Grace and presses it against Anael’s, this way of communicating far more efficient than talking. His sister receives what he sends her, and he gives her a minute to sort through everything.

When she finishes, Anael smiles sadly at Castiel. “I cannot help you with this Castiel. You must find your way through this yourself. However, I feel it would be prudent not to speak of this to anyone else.”

“Yes, I knew that if I spoke to anyone about it, it would be you,” Castiel confides lowly.

Anael sighs. “I truly cannot help you with this Castiel. You must decide what you want to do yourself. I will support you in whatever you choose, but do not let our superiors see anything, and do not let it interfere with our work here on earth. You know what happens to angels that are caught acting out.”

Castiel shivers. _Termination or re-education_. He isn’t sure which is worse.

“Thank you Anael,” he murmurs, looking out the window to where he knows Dean is travelling alone up to where his colleagues are held.

“Just trust yourself Castiel. You know what is best for you.” With this, Anael flies away, and he loses track of her as soon as she is out of his sight. She keeps the shielding up, and Castiel takes the time to wonder briefly where she is going and what she is doing. Castiel lets out a breath, and opens his wings, letting the wind take him back to where he wishes to be.

Dean is getting out of his car when Castiel appears behind him. The hunter tries to hide how he startles at Castiel’s appearance, but Castiel can sense the tension in his muscles and he knows that Dean should have rested before coming out here. Castiel is only just beginning to sense that Dean is inclined to sacrifice his time, energy, sleep and apparently life for his friends and family. Castiel would not let that happen, but he thinks that Dean could perhaps take better care of himself.

“Hey Cas. You sorted out all your angel stuff?”

Castiel nods, and follows Dean as he winds his way towards the start of the cave system where Annie and Ash had gone to find the shape shifter. Castiel can smell its stink everywhere, and he can also sense the two vaguely familiar souls somewhere in the cave system.

“I can sense Annie and Ash’s souls. They are still alive.”

Dean looks at him, face hopeful. “Can you locate them?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I am not that familiar with their souls, so I cannot pinpoint their location. They’re below us though. Under the hill, in the bottom caves.”

“Of course,” Dean mutters. “Anyway, it was more than we had. Come on.”

Castiel follows Dean into the dark hollow where the cave starts, watching the brighter area where Dean flicks his torch on. Castiel doesn’t need the light, and if he is being honest with himself he prefers the darkness, but he understands that the human cannot see without it. Dean chooses paths that look well used, and since those are the ones which are more used by the shape shifter Castiel is content to let Dean lead the way. Castiel senses that these caverns wind their way down to nearly the bedrock. He extends his senses out through the caverns, but the stench of the creature makes him gag slightly and he pulls the senses back, only keeping enough to see without the light that Dean is holding and to sense if the creature is within fifty metres of them. He could easily fly through the caves to search, but he would rather not, as the residue the creature has left is thick, sticky and disgusting, and he would rather keep his wings out of it. This shape shifter is old, and powerful. Castiel is not surprised that even such accomplished hunters like Annie and Ash could not dispatch it.

When Dean tries to go down a lesser used path Castiel places his hand on the hunters shoulder. Dean tenses suddenly and Castiel wonders if he had forgotten that he isn’t alone down here.

“Not that way, Dean.”

Dean looks back at him with his eyebrows raised and makes a gesture with his hands that Castiel takes to mean ‘then which way?’

Castiel points to the smaller passage, and Dean winces as he turns towards it. The smaller path steeply descends into the earth, with numerous holes and unstable rock which could easily fall apart. Castiel grabs Dean’s elbow in order to keep the human from falling down a hole that turns into a chute that turns into a three hundred metre fall.

Dean stumbles and Castiel pulls him back from the hole and turns him onto a safer path. Dean shakes off his hand as he continues down the path. Castiel shakes his head at the emotion that wells up inside him, shedding it like water off a duck’s back.

The minutes turn to hours and Castiel can nearly see the weariness that plagues Dean now, the aching of his muscles that he really should have rested before coming here.

The fact that the shape shifter had not yet made an appearance is beginning to make Castiel nervous.

“Dean?”

Dean turns, and suppresses a wince when his body protests.

Castiel thinks that if he claims that he wants to rest because of Dean then Dean would refuse to stop, so he takes the other cause of action.

“What is it, Cas?”

“I am… tired?” The angel attempts to mimic what he had heard humans say when they are weary. Dean looks ready to call him out on his lie, but then seems to reconsider.

“Wow, thought that angels didn’t need rest,” Dean says as he settles into the curve of a rock. He lets out a sigh as he lets himself relax.

“We are creatures as well Dean. We are not indestructible.”

“Really? What harms an angel?”

“There are a number of things that can.”

Dean waits for a few seconds before responding. “Wow, that’s astonishingly vague.”

Castiel turns his head to stare at Dean. “If I did not know your weaknesses then would you tell me yours?”

Dean huffs out a breath. “Yeah that makes sense I guess. No tips whatsoever?”

Castiel frowns, not wanting Dean to be harmed if it could be helped. “Very few people can hear the true voice of an angel without being inflicted with permanent hearing damage or extreme injury to their eardrums. The same thing applies for seeing an angel’s true form. If one of us tells you to close your eyes, or we start glowing, you do that, and it would probably be helpful to cover your ears as well.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Your eyes get burnt from your skull.”

Dean leans back. “Okay then, angel 101. Anything else you can share with me?”

“You make it sound like I should not be telling you this,” Castiel looks down at Dean while he says it, and watches as Dean looks away uncomfortably.

“Well why are you telling me this? I thought you were meant to be all high and mighty and inconceivable and above us all.”

“‘All’ being humans?”

“Well, yeah obviously.”

Castiel hasn’t taken his eyes off Dean the entire conversation, and neither has he sat down. “Maybe some humans are better than others.”

“Dude, that sounds like a bad pick up line.”

Castiel frowns. “What is a ‘pick up line’?”

Dean closes his eyes briefly and Castiel wonders what he is thinking about. Most likely the best way to define his phrase.

“It’s when you pick someone up.” Castiel shakes his head, signalling that he still doesn’t understand. “With a line. Usually cheesy.” Castiel shakes his head again. Dean sighs like he’s giving up. “For sex. A pick up line is where you try to convince someone to have sex with you.”

“That seems complicated.”

“Some people find it hard, while it’s easier for others.” Dean laughs at something, and Castiel looks around trying to find something funny. He decides that Dean is simply strange and human when he finds nothing.

“And you would classify what I just said as a ‘pick up line’?”

Dean shifts and Castiel can sense discomfort coming off the human. “I said like a pick up line, not one.”

“Very well,” Castiel says, extending his reach to search for the shape shifter. He turns his head in alarm when he senses it moving quickly toward them, from not very far away.

“Cas? What is it?”

“The shape shifter. It is coming here.”

Dean immediately stands, grabbing his gun and checking to make sure that everything in it is working. “How far away?”

Castiel doesn’t have to answer when they both hear the rumble growl echo through the cave. “Very close.”

“No shit Sherlock,” Dean mumbles.

Castiel frowns at Dean. “My name is not Sherlock.”

Dean takes a second to look like he’s regretting his life choices.

Castiel turns and slips his blade into his hand. He doubts Dean can see it, what with how the hunter is waving the torch light everywhere, trying to see where the threat is coming from.

Leaping towards Dean, Castiel throws his blade and hisses when it misses, flying through the air with a twisting spin. Castiel flies and catches it before it can hit the cave wall, but now that it knows that he is not human, it is far more interested in him than Dean.

“I aven’t com ecros ona yu in a long tim’,” the shape shifter growls, and Castiel is suddenly overwhelmed by how old this creature is. It’s as rare as coming across a three hundred year old human, and just as valuable.

Castiel sees Dean scrunch up his face in disgust before aiming his gun, thinking that the shape shifter had forgotten about him. Castiel knows he is wrong; no creature would have lived for this long by forgetting there is a hunter at its back.

Sure enough, when Dean fires, it had already leaped out of the way, and Castiel frowns as he spends half a second plucking the round from his chest. Dean looks on unbelievingly.

“I believe it is your time to walk the forests of Purgatory old one. Let me guide you there.”

The shape shifter growls and launches itself as Castiel, and the angel meets it half way.

He holds the creature at arm’s length, his palm on its forehead, and releases the power that he holds inside him. He can only imagine how he looks to Dean – the flashlight is facing away from the angel and the shape shifter, so the only light would be coming from Castiel’s palm. Surrounded by darkness, it would be very likely that only their faces and parts of their bodies could be seen by the white light. The energy is ruffling its fur violently, and Castiel can feel where his own hair, along with his jacket and tie are flapping around wildly.

When he is finished, and the creature is a pile of smouldering ash at his feet, he looks over at Dean calmly, who is staring with his mouth slightly open. “Whoa,” the hunter stutters out, retrieving the flashlight.

“You ignored me,” Castiel tells him, walking to where the two souls of the hunters are, still deeper underground.

“What?” Dean asks confusedly.

“I said to look away if we start glowing, or you could lose your eyes. You ignored me Dean.”

Dean is silent for the rest of the way down to the main cavern.

~*~*~*~

“I can’t believe we’re still alive!” Ash triumphantly declares, taking a swig from his flask. “Beastie’s dead, and we’re not, I’m saying a good day for everyone.”

Dean clinks his glass against Annie’s. Cas is the only one without a drink, declining one on the grounds that he ‘does not need sustenance.’ Dean wants to tell Cas that alcohol isn’t exactly essential, but decides not to. The angel had done some good work today, and he isn’t going to press the issue if Cas doesn’t want anything.

“I’m going to detour to Bobby’s on the way back , and then the Roadhouse, okay? It’s a bit out of the way, but I’ve got part of my library to give him and I need to talk to him about getting new books, as well as make sure that Jo’s alright. She’s probably up there, so I’ll go detour through Nebraska, check in on her. You guys fine to make your way back to HQ?”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine Dean.” Annie says. “Go and bribe the old man with new books. Sometimes I think it’s the only reason he keeps up his relationship with you.”

Dean smiles and makes sure that they both are okay to head back before getting in the Impala and closing the door. They had been tied up in the basement of the cave along with two corpses. Neither of them had been hurt and Dean counted his lucky stars for that. One or both of them could have easily been dinner.

Cas appears beside him with a rustle. “Are we headed to South Dakota or Nebraska first?”

Dean hadn’t counted on taking the angel with him, but he figures that Cas would have to run off on some angel business before he gets anywhere, so Dean would welcome the company, as angelic and slightly creepy as it was.

“Up to Bobby’s. He said he’d be there for the next few days but after that he’s leaving. So we only have until then.”

Cas nods and settles back into the front seat, his spine still too straight, his gaze still too direct, but Dean’s learning that the angel doesn’t mean to do these things. It’s unconscious, and Cas probably doesn’t even know that what he does marks him out as different from the rest of the population. Only some things stand out about him anymore, like how when Dean touches him, he feels cold and hard, like he had been hollowed out and re-filled with concrete.

“I thought you said that staring at people was not something that you did in your culture?” Cas asks curiously. He is looking back at Dean, and Dean’s not sure how long they’ve been looking at each other.

Dean wrenches his gaze away from the angel, starting the Impala’s engine and resolutely looking at the road. “Yeah, we don’t.”

When Dean lets himself look at the angel twenty miles later, Cas is still looking confused.

~*~*~*~

Cas is still there when Dean pulls into Bobby’s caryard, two days later. The days of driving hadn’t been as weird as he would have expected, Cas silent most of the time, content to either stare at Dean when he thinks Dean wasn’t looking, or watching the countryside pass out the window. The few times he speaks, he asks about Dean’s favourite books, music, food, colour. Dean tells him – Slaughter House Five, Led Zeppelin, pie, blue – and then asks the questions of Cas. Cas deliberates over each of them, and sometimes it’s hours later that Cas will suddenly say ‘I’ve never had the chance to listen to music so I do not have an opinion’ or ‘the colour green has a nice wavelength.’ Dean stores these little nuggets of knowledge, somewhere where he keeps every thought about the angel. They might not particularly like each other by the time the drive is over, but Dean feels like they’ve reached some sort of peace, and the idea is only strengthened in his mind when his dreams taper off slightly.

Maybe he could get over his fear, and work with Cas like he is any other person.

He hadn’t expected Cas to still be here at the end of the drive, but he would take the opportunity to introduce the older hunter and the angel while he had it.

Dean knocks on the front door. Bobby’s truck is still here so the older hunter hadn’t left early for whatever he had to do later in the week. When Dean hears a gruff ‘come in’, from inside, he smiles slightly and opens the door.

The angel follows him silently inside, and Dean places his first armful of books down on Bobby’s counter with a slight thump.

“That had better be my books and not your boots boy!” Bobby yells from the basement.

“I wouldn’t sit down so soon old man!” Dean shouts back. He heads back outside and gives an armful of books to Cas, who looks at them bemusedly. “Make yourself useful, carry some books inside.”

Cas blinks and all the books disappear, from the Impala’s trunk and from the angel’s hands.

Dean looks in, and they’re all piled next to where he had just put down the original lot. “Oh come on, that’s just showing off,” he complains. “You’ll make someone jealous if you keep flaunting those powers of yours. Honestly,” Dean huffs.

Bobby comes into the dining room, wiping grime of his hands with a towel that looks like it is only adding grease, not removing it. “Dean? Who’s your friend?” Bobby asks, looking suspiciously at Cas.

“Oh yeah. Bobby, this is Castiel. Cas, this is Bobby. He basically raised me, so you’re obliged to be nice to him.”

Cas walks forward, offering a hand. “Dean has informed me that humans shake hands upon meeting one another.”

Bobby shakes Cas’s hand, and only then does his words seem to register. “Humans?”

Dean rubs his chin, deciding just to hit the older man over the head with the information. “Umm, Bobby, Cas is also an angel.”

Bobby turns wary eyes on Cas, looking him up and down. “Angel, eh?”

“That is correct, Robert Singer.”

Bobby looks uneasy at the use of his full name, and half turns like he’s ready to leave the room to get his shotgun. Dean hurries to reassure him. “It’s okay Bobby. The Bureau is participating in a program with them… Cas is one of the angels assigned to work with us on earth.”

“What have I told you about supernatural creatures Dean?”

Dean sighs. “I know, I know. But work, what can you do?”

Bobby grunts out an assent to that. “Where are my books?”

“You’re leaning on them.”

Bobby stands up straight. “You didn’t get time to bring those in.”

“Cas was showing off.”

“I was not showing off.”

“You were too showing off.”

“Shut up the both of ya. Dean, you can browse through, take whatever you need. Just don’t touch the ones in my study. I haven’t catalogued them yet.”

Dean nods and starts to walk around the room. Bobby goes back into the basement after casting one last look at Cas, like he can’t quite believe what Dean was bringing home, before going back to whatever he had been doing before.

“What are you looking for?” Cas asks quietly.

“Anything I haven’t read that looks like it might have information that also looks interesting. And are in English. I have Sam to do all the translating work, I don’t need to put up with that as well.”

Cas cocks his head, and in a second there are a pile of books beside him. “There are no true information inside these.”

“And how do you know that?” Dean asks, looking at the pile of books.

“I have read them all, and these ones have no truth inside them.”

“Right,” Dean drawls. He picks up the pile and puts them in a corner, scribbling a note on top that tells Bobby that these books are all fictional, and to say thanks to Cas for letting them know.

Picking up books at random, Dean flicks through them to make sure they’re in English, and then checks the title and the subject so he can see if it’s on anything interesting. Anything on demons is immediately put back where Dean had picked it up from.

Cas is wondering around as well, trailing his hands over book spines and looking at the numerous books attentively. Dean plunks the books he had down on the table in the middle of the room which is relatively free of clutter, and goes into the hallway to search for anything else that catches his eye.

The phones ring a few times every hour for the four hours that Dean browses through Bobby’s books. He eventually finds himself rummaging through Bobby’s freezer, trying to see what he can find for dinner. He comes up with some mince, and humming happily, finds Bobby’s pan and starts making burgers. He finds some sad looking tomato in Bobby’s fridge and cuts that up, before setting some frozen bread out for it to thaw.

Half an hour later he’s hollering for Bobby, who comes up into the kitchen. “I’ve never got used to you commandeering my kitchen, Dean. The last time I had a meal that wasn’t out of a box…” Bobby pauses, thinking it over. “I’m not even sure.” He takes the plate, and Dean picks up his. Cas had been standing behind the bench after Dean had shooed him out of the kitchen for getting in the way.

“Here you go Cas.” Dean puts a plate in front of Cas, and the angel frowns at it.

“I do not eat Dean.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, but I made it for you, so it’d be rude if you didn’t eat it. You don’t want to be rude do you?”

Cas looks conflicted. “I’ve never eaten anything before,” he confesses.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

Cas still looks confused, so Dean pulls up two seats. “Sit down.” The angel does. “Now pick up the burger. And take a bite.”

Cas purses his lips before doing as Dean suggests. He sits there for a minute before Dean tells him to chew. The angel swallows and looks down at his plate.

“I think… I like it?”

“Good. Now eat the rest.”

Dean watches as Cas meticulously consumes the burger, not leaving a crumb on the plate. He takes longer than Dean, and he sits watching the angel for another five minutes before Cas finishes.

“Thank you Dean. I enjoyed that.”

“Cool. I’ll cook for you some other time then.”

Dean cleans up and does the washing up after everyone is done. Cas picks each dish up and puts it down, except it’s dry when it touches the counter. Dean takes the time to clean up all the other dishes he finds around the house, a silent thank you to Bobby for letting him take some of his books and letting him crash here.

It’s past one by the time Dean finishes cleaning up all the dishes he can find around the house and has put them all away. He doesn’t touch the books, since Bobby has his own sorting method that appears to be random if anyone else looks at it, but if you put one book back in the wrong place, he’d know about it.

“You got anywhere to be?” Dean asks Cas. The angel shakes his head. “We can stay up, talk about stuff?”

Cas frowns slightly. “I would prefer it if you slept,” the angel says.

Dean rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, so would I,” he mutters.

Cas is looking at him again, head tilted to the side slightly. “Sleep, Dean. We can talk more in the morning.”

“Are you even still going to be here in the morning?” Cas hasn’t left his side in days, and he thinks he’s beginning to like the angel, against all odds.

“If I have to leave I will wake you,” Cas promises.

Dean nods. He’s not sure if he can do anything else.

Taking his pack, he walks down to the spare room, noting how Cas settles down on the couch, and how a book filled with strange looking scribbles appears in his hands. Swallowing some of Pamela’s medicine with water, Dean pulls the covers up over him and sends out his now daily wish for no dreams.

~*~*~*~

Cas is sitting on the hood of the Impala when Dean wakes in a cold sweat. Dean can see him out the window, staring up at the sky with his eyes closed, coat haphazardly rumpled up around him with his hands folded together on his stomach.

He showers, trying to wash off the memory of the dream. Wondering if it would be impolite to start drinking at such an early hour, Dean reasons that it _is_ Bobby’s house that he’s at right now.

The angel is leaning against the windscreen, and Dean watches as he silently raises a hand to acknowledge him. Cas is still staring up at the sky, watching as it turns from black to a dark blue, the first rays of the rising sun peeking up over the horizon.

Dean finds bacon, but no eggs in the fridge, so he fries enough for Cas and himself, taking a plate with some bread out to the angel an placing it on the Impala’s hood before leaving silently. When he comes out an hour later, Cas is gone but the plate is empty, so Dean assumes that he’s coming back.

“Your angel friend leave?” Bobby asks.

“For now. He’ll be back.”

“What are you messing around with Dean? What are you playing with? I remember the summer of 06. That was not a pretty year, and it had angels all through it.” Bobby looks at Dean, trying to figure out what could have prompted the younger man to participate in such a scheme. “What about your dreams? Sam’s told me they’re getting worse.”

Not for the first time, Dean regrets telling anyone that he can’t sleep at night.

“I don’t know Bobby. Rufus says that we’re ‘fostering relationships’ with them, making sure that they won’t all sweep down on us one day and randomly decide that they should kill us all. I wasn’t sure at first, but I think that it’s a way to get knowledge out of them, to see what their weaknesses are in order to give us an advantage if they ever do decide to fight against us. Some of me just thinks the Bureau wants them for firepower, wants us to convince them that they should side with America if a war between humans started. And my dreams have nothing to do with this, and they are not getting worse. I’m fine.”

Bobby looks at him disbelievingly. “Oh sure, you’re _fine_.” Dean half flinches at the sarcasm in the older man’s voice. Bobby could still bring it. “I don’t believe it.”

Dean knew that Bobby wouldn’t press the issue, since he isn’t that type of person. Bobby’s only letting Dean know he can talk if he wants to. Dean doesn’t intend to take him up on his offer, but it’s a slight relief to know that he can go somewhere if he had to.

“So tell me about your angel friends.”

Dean had never kept anything from Bobby if the old man asked, and this is no exception. He tells Bobby about how the angels had come and had chosen partners out of the SPN team and the normal units as well. How they just seemed to hover, occasionally helping with hunts or information gathering, but otherwise not doing much of anything.

“So what are they here for? Do you know?” Dean shakes his head.

“I don’t know. I think it has something to do with what Meg was saying, and the questions that Cas was asking. They’re looking for something, I know that much. I asked Charlie to dig into it, but she said that she’ll have to go about it really carefully to make sure that no one finds out that she’s looking for why the angels are actually here. I think that I’ll just have to wait and see what’s going to happen with them.”

Bobby grunts, taking a sip of his beer. Dean had taken a beer as well, since Bobby had offered. “I don’t think there’s anything else you can do Dean, not unless you want to get fired and then have the FBI on your tail, looking for you to make sure that you don’t spill any state secrets. You’re pretty high up on the food chain, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, just by knowing about the supernatural we’re above a lot of other units. But we also don’t know stuff that some of the others do. We keep to our job, and make sure that they don’t interfere with it, and we keep out of their way. We’re known as the silent team, since no one knows anything about us, and we don’t talk about what we work about, but they have orders to do what we say if we ask them to do something. They don’t know why, but those are their orders. Nobody asks though. They know that there’s stuff they don’t know about that we do, and we like to keep it that way.”

Bobby nods. “And yet you tell me anything I ask.”

“But not all that you ask is all that I know, old man,” Dean tells the hunter. Bobby nods slowly at this, looking at Dean considerately.

“You probably want to talk to Ellen.”

“Yeah, I was going to go down there on the way back to Phoenix.”

“That’s one hell of a detour.”

Dean shrugs. “Eh, it’s worth it. If Ellen found out that I had been up here but not to see her, she’d have my head, and Bill wouldn’t talk to me for a few months, just for making her upset.”

Bobby nods. “True. I’ve got to go tomorrow, but you can stick around until then. Do you know if the angel’s gonna show back up?”

“You never know with Cas,” Dean confesses. “Sometimes he’ll stay for days on end. Other times, you won’t see him for a week. He’ll be around, though.”

Bobby casts a sceptical look at him. “If you say so. You need to fix anything on your car, the garage is open.”

Dean smiles. “Thanks Bobby. Yeah, I was hearing a rattle up on the way here. I want to have a look at her.”

“Then don’t let me stop you. I have things to do, phones to answer, cases to research. You go and do your thing, have your break from work.”

Bobby leaves and Dean drives the Impala into the garage. He pulls out the tools he keeps here, ones that Bobby doesn’t use that he has especially for the Impala. Opening the hood, Dean bends over the engine, trying to see if he can find the cause of the rattle.

Dean looks after the Impala for a few hours, changing her oil, checking tire pressure and giving the car a once over.

“Do you enjoy this?”

Dean swears as his head catches on the hood of the Impala’s engine. “Jesus Cas!”

The angel is looking at him calmly, wide blue eyes studying Dean. Dean had just been in the engine for the last fifteen minutes, so the angel could have been sitting there for a while.

Cas cocks his head, looking at Dean, who was rubbing his head angrily. “Give a guy some warning, yeah?”

“Very well,” Cas says.

Dean sighs, closing the hood. “Yeah, of course I enjoy it.”

“You’ve been doing it for the last few hours, so I would assume that you enjoy it.”

Dean walks over to where he kept his rags, wiping his hands of most of the grease. “Did you get your angel business finished?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good.”

Dean walks into the house, with Castiel following him. “So you just winged your way back here?”

“Yes. It is our current mission to be with you when we are not needed by our superiors.”

“I don’t see Anna or Uriel hanging around all that often,” Dean retorts.

“They are there, just unseen by your human eyes. We are angels Dean. It is more in our nature to watch and guard rather than interact.”

Dean shrugs slightly, reasoning that this does sound like what angels do.

Bobby is in his office, walking around, and Dean can hear the footsteps from the living room. The older man is probably researching something, so Dean sticks his head inside.

“Do you need help with anything?” He asks.

Bobby looks up with a scowl. “Why? Do you think my eye sight’s going boy?” He growls.

Dean hastily backtracks. “No, no, just if you need me to look through something, then we can get twice the work done if I help.”

Bobby regards him suspiciously for another second before picking up a large tome and holding it out for Dean to pick up. “See if you can find anything in there about ancient Rome and fauns.”

“As in the half goat half human people?” Bobby nods and Dean looks at the book. It’s covered in dust, and the writing inside is hand written in a scrawling script. Sighing, Dean wonders when he had thought it was a good idea to volunteer to help with information.

Three hours later Bobby calls him into the office, saying that he found the relevant info. Dean dumps the half read tome onto the older hunter’s desk and swallows Pamela’s leaves, watching Cas as he squints in confusion at the TV, which is on mute.

Crawling underneath the covers, Dean closes his eyes and asks for a dreamless sleep.

~*~*~*~

The drive to the Roadhouse takes just over five hours.

It definitely isn’t one of Dean’s worst drives, since he can go flat out along the highway, avoiding cops and Cas’s reproaching glances.

As they’re pulling up into the parking lot, Dean looks over the rusty and worn down trucks, utes and cars that occupy the majority of the parking lot. After seven Ellen ushers any civilians out of the bar, and the hunters are free to talk about whatever they wish, however loudly they wish, and not have to worry that some well-meaning stranger will call the police on the crazy guy talking about monsters at the bar.

It’s only three when they get there though, so that leaves four hours until the bar becomes hunter friendly.

“So you can’t tell anyone that you’re not human okay? I don’t need someone deciding to try and kill you, and I don’t need my cover blown. There aren’t that many people who know that I work for the state now, and those that do aren’t gonna give me any crap about it, but someone in there might. And it helps to have a person who everyone thinks is just a normal hunter like them. Nobody speaks to the feds, even if the feds know about the supernatural. It’s ingrained into us. So behave like a normal human, okay?”

Cas looks vaguely puzzled, like he can’t imagine how a normal human looks or moves. Dean suppresses the frustration he’s feeling and gets out of the Impala. He digs around in one of his duffels for one of his most hunter looking shirts, as he is already wearing threadbare jeans. Pulling two layers of plaid out, Dean yanks his shirt off and puts another on, having the plaid go over the top. Lastly he tugs on his leather jacket, and turns to see Cas watching him.

“You need to lose the suit Cas,” Dean tells the angel. “No one’s going to take you seriously looking like that.”

Cas frowns down at what he’s wearing, and then before Dean can blink, Cas is wearing an exact replica of what Dean is. “No, you can’t wear the same stuff as me!” Dean tells the angel in exasperation. “Vary the colours, change the jacket or something.”

Cas frowns again, and the jeans darken to an almost black, his shirt turning tight and white, one of the plaid layers disappearing and the other turning the exact colour of Cas’s eyes. Not that Dean knows what colour Cas’s eyes are. The leather jacket melts down into a tightly fitting black leather jacket, and his shoes turn to sneakers.

“Is this acceptable?” The angel asks.

“Well,” Dean chokes out. The angel tilts his head to the side. Dean pretends he’s running his eyes over Cas’s body just because he wants to make sure the outfit is okay. “That’ll be fine,” he says, voice slightly raw, ignoring the slight churn of his gut. “Come on.” Dean brushes past Cas, arm catching slightly on the shorter man’s, and Dean can’t even bring himself to think that it’s not an accident.

He catches Ellen’s eye as soon as he walks in, and he moves towards a booth. She comes over, apparently to give them menus, but immediately narrows her eyes at Cas.

“Is this the angel?” She asks Dean lowly, eyes never leaving Cas.

“Yeah. Ellen, this is Castiel. Cas, this is my foster mother, Ellen.”

Cas nods, and offers his hand. Ellen shakes it slowly, still eyeing Cas like he’ll bite her. “Bobby called, told me everything you told him ‘bout them,” Ellen says, pointing at Cas with her thumb. “You got yourself in a spot of trouble there Dean.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, well we’re just dropping by to say hello. I’ve gotta leave tomorrow, to get back to Phoenix before Rufus chew me up for taking too long visiting you guys. Is Bill around? Has Jo dropped by yet?”

Ellen nods. “You just missed her. She left this morning, saying the same thing about Rufus that you just did. Bill is out back, just going over our supplies, making the shopping list for the week. You need a place to crash?”

“Yeah, is the guest room empty?”

“Yep, nobody’s been in there for a bit, so you got the place to yourself.”

“Cool, can we get some lunch?”

“Angel boy eats?”

“I suspect that it would appear peculiar if Dean was the only one eating, and yet I was sitting here with him.”

Ellen looks at Cas. “That it might. Just the usual then? For both of you?”

Dean nods and Ellen walks back towards the bar.

Dean takes the time to start talking to Cas, pointing out everything in the bar he could think of that the angel wouldn’t know of, including human behaviour. Ellen brings them the burgers, and Dean is still talking to Cas, the angel just sitting there and soaking the information up. In return, Cas tells Dean about the time he had witnessed the first few seconds of a supernova of a star, and about some of his friends. He talked about angels that Dean knew, like Uriel and Balthazar, but also of ones that he hadn’t, like Rachel and Hestor. Not very angelic sounding names, but Cas assured Dean that he had said the right thing.

Before Dean knows it, it is seven o’clock, and Ellen is announcing that she is closing for everyone but the special customers. A few families and couples walk out, and the hunters wait all of thirty seconds after Ellen had put the closed sign on the door to start talking about the supernatural.

“They seem very enthused,” Cas observes, looking around the bar.

“Yeah well most of them work alone, and this is the only time they can relax, put their guard down and talk about whatever they want, with people who know what they do and what they’re gone through on the job. Most of them are only here for a night or two, so they want to get out all of the talking that they can before heading off to their next hunt.”

Dean watches as Ellen slides away the covering on the noticeboard. “See over there?” He asks Cas, pointing towards the board that several hunters are making their way over to. “Bobby scans for hunts, and gives the info to Ellen, who puts the minimum information on the board. If they see something they want to take on, you take down the paper that is advertising that hunt, and you go and see Bill, who has all the information collated. He then gives you the full packet that they have, and you take it, go and gank the son of a bitch, and you don’t have to look for a hunt yourself. It’s good, because if you catch wind of another hunt while you’re on one, you call up Bill and tell him about it, he looks into it and puts it up on the board, where someone else can take it. You can finish your job knowing that someone else is taking care of the other one. Charlie even calls up sometimes, giving jobs when she has no one left at the office and she’s found something.”

“It sounds like a convenient system.”

“Yeah, it is. It also drums us business here, since hunters know they can come and get another job here, as well as there being free talk and discounted alcohol.”

“Is that why you have had so much alcohol?” Cas asks.

“Well I’m sleeping here, so there’s no reason not to.” Dean can already feel the slight light headedness and lowering of inhibitions that comes with drinking. He lets himself look over Cas more lingeringly. “You can have some if you want to,” Dean offers. He tries to imagine the angel drunk, and can’t help the muffled snort that he makes.

“I do not wish to consume any liquor Dean,” Cas tells him.

“Whatever floats your boat,” Dean says. “Look, I’m going to go and socialise a bit. You can mingle as well if you want to, but don’t let anyone know that you’re not human, okay?”

The angel nods, and Dean thinks it’s unlikely that Cas will leave the table. He goes over to watch the pool table, and after watching two games asks to join. There’s no stakes, just some fun, and Dean willingly gives himself over to the science of trying to find that exact sweet spot to hit, that place where the ball goes rolling across the green felt and sinks cleanly into the hole.

He wins two games, watches a few more, cheering on whoever’s turn it is. He listens to stories, and before he knows it, it’s two o’clock and Ellen is threatening, bribing, shoving and taunting everyone out of the bar. Dean’s left, with Cas sitting at the bar, where he was talking to Ellen.

Dean grabs a cloth without being asked to and begins to wipe down the tables, put the chairs up so Ellen can mop the floor, wipes glasses before putting them away, organises the bottles and puts the stoppers back in, making sure they were all in their right spots.

He had thrown a cloth to Cas, who had determinedly set to the bar, and was scrubbing at it with a kind of focus that normally isn’t put to that task. Ellen cleans all the floors while Dean stacks the very large dishwasher, and he is wiping his hands as he surveys the bar. Cas is putting the pool table to rights, fishing out all the balls and placing them in a triangle formation.

“You right Cas?” Dean asks the angel. Cas nods, and Dean says goodnight to Ellen and Bill when he passes them on the way to the guestroom, which used to be his room.

There are so many memories attached to these walls, and Dean feels safe among his childhood place, where some of his best memories had occurred.

In the morning, he waves goodbye to Ellen and Bill. He tells them to call if they need anything, even if it was just an extra hand on a hunt, and Ellen had ignored it while telling him to come by more often. Cas had stood awkwardly behind him, standing next to the passenger side door of the Impala while Dean said his goodbyes. The angel had changed back to his suit and oversized trench coat, and looks as he had before Dean had insisted he change.

Cas is there the whole way as Dean speeds back to Phoenix.


	5. The Start of the Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With more werewolves to deal with, Dean slips up and gets hurt. Thank God - wherever he is - that Cas is there to save him.

Dean is _so fucking done_ with werewolf problems.

Of course the next case Charlie pulls up is another wolf difficulty. Garth’s arm still isn’t healed enough to be out of a cast, and it probably won’t be for another month, and then he’d have to stick to office work for another two months at least. Victor can walk on his ankle, but not far and not for long. It’s going to take another month for him to be up to speed fully. Annie is resting from the shape shifter ordeal, so Dean wouldn’t let her come along, no matter how much she complained or threatened. Until everyone is back up and kicking, Dean is stuck with three members down and two half teams that have to pair up.

Also, he had to deal with this shit _last month_.

Not his definition of fun.

They’re in the south of New Mexico, have been for three days while they figured out where the werewolves were, if they had a plan and if they knew they’re turning furry around the full moon. They’d figured out it had been an alpha couple turning others for their pack, and now there’s no choice but to kill them all before anyone gets hurt.

Dean gets himself, Charlie and Ash ready to kill some werewolves. He had purposefully avoided telling Pamela about this trip, even though she probably already knows. If they’d spoken, she would have asked him to get more bits for her. He really doesn’t want to know what they do with those.

They find where the werewolves would be gathering, after getting access to a security tape with footage and sound saying they would all meet up at an abandoned warehouse near the edge of town, and Dean makes sure that his teammates are prepared before leading them there. Why it’s always a warehouse he’s not sure. Maybe the supernatural types are just attracted to them.

They separate inside the empty building, Charlie taking one direction, Ash the other and Dean moving straight ahead.

Remembering how Sam had the upper hand from the walkways in their last werewolf hunt, Dean looks around for a staircase so he can go up to the top, and spotting one, he runs up it for an overview of the entire room. The low moving shapes of the wolves are too fast for him to shoot without them stopping, but he can tell the others what he can see from up here.

The maze of the shelves is a pattern that Dean tries to remember as he watches his teammates and their adversaries.

“Ash, there’s one coming up behind you.” The invention of the walkie talkie was a gift from God.

“Dean what –” Ash’s voice was cut off by the sound of a gun firing twice. “Whoa, dude, how did you know?”

“I’m up on the walkways.”

“Nice idea Dean.” Charlie cuts in. “Can you tell how many there are?”

“A few, eight to ten.”    

“Shit, it’s only us.”

“Don’t let them surround you, and you’ll be fine.”

Seeing on of the werewolves stop and sniff the ground, Dean aims and fires. Without a sound it slowly slumps over on its side.

“Charlie, two coming up towards you from the front.” Dean sees another one going on a predictable course, so he shoots at that one as well. He shoots again when he sees that it misses, and this time it falls.

“Well at least I’m getting some practise in,’ Dean mutters.

Metal scrapes softly against metal, and Dean spins around. “Damnit.”

The alpha and her mate are standing behind him, their eyes locked on Dean.

“Ah, hey guys. I wasn’t the one to shoot your friends, no, not at all. I’m just going to back away now, please don’t follow me or do follow me, whatever you want, I’m going to run now.”

Dean times his first jump into running just as the alpha leaps at him. Ducking so she sails overhead and over the edge of the railings, Dean continues to run, shooting off rounds behind him as the werewolves continue to follow him, the only reason that they haven’t caught up yet being that the twists and turns of the walkway are sharp and the walkway itself is narrow, and the werewolves are trying not to fall off.

The alpha is beneath him, jaws snapping as she jumps and tries to get back up on the walkway. Dean aims, tries for a shot that would kill her, and fires.

The yelp and thud sounds positive, and when Dean looks over the edge he sees the unmoving lump of fur that used to be the alpha.

The other werewolf chasing him lets out a few sharp yips, then a bark, and before Dean can do anything he’s being tackled and pushed over the edge by an angry wolf.

For the second time in a month Dean finds himself trapped underneath the weight of a werewolf _. I really have to stop doing this_ , he thinks as he stabs upwards with the silver short sword that he manages to get out. The male werewolf whines and rolls off him. Dean grunts as he stands. _I’m gonna feel that tomorrow._

The werewolf charges him, and Dean slashes at it with the sword, his gun lost in the fall somewhere.

Getting a shallow wound along the side, the werewolf spins and growls at him, charging again. Dodging out of the way, Dean tries to look for an opening so he can stick the sword in its heart.

The eyes of the werewolf shine with unrestrained animal ferocity, and he launches himself at Dean before Dean can throw himself out of the way. Its claws drag through his upper left arm, and Dean yanks his body out of the path of the massive ball of furry hate. Shooting the female werewolf had probably been a bad idea. Their mates are notoriously protective, and now this werewolf is _mad_. Dean hears another three gunshots, and assumes that Charlie or Ash just dropped another one.

Ducking under another leap by the wolf is hard work, and Dean’s fighting arm is torn to shreds. Hoping that one of his other team members would come and help is a sucky back-up plan, so he switches his sword to his left hand and aims for a throw.

The mark is off, only getting the werewolf’s shoulder and making him, if possible, madder than he had been. Dean can’t dodge the next set of claws that swipe towards his belly, and being disembowelled is not fun at all.

Falling down on his back, Dean closes his eyes, thinking, _well this is how it ends_ , when suddenly there’s a whimper and a thud, accompanied by several more thuds and the ceasing of gunfire.

Opening one of his eyes a crack to see why he isn’t dead yet, he looks into ocean blue eyes hovering above him. Figures.

“Can’t even let me die in peace, will ya?” Dean manages to croak out. Cas looks offended for a second.

“You are not going to die here, Dean,” the angel states, as if it’s the most certain thing in the world.

Dean’s about to croak out something about he _is_ going to die if he doesn’t have a miracle here when he realises _angel_. Cas places his hand on his upper arm, and nothing happens for a second while Cas furrows his brow in concentration.

Dean isn’t ready for the white-hot burn of Cas’s hand against his skin. He cries out, tries to move away, but instead feels himself frozen in place, with nothing he can do. Fire races down his spine to his injuries and he vaguely feels the uncomfortable sensation of his flesh knitting back together in under a second but all of his focus is on the brand burning itself into his shoulder.

Abruptly it’s over, and Cas sits back on his heels, looking exhausted. Giving him a look that said ‘don’t go and get yourself killed while I’m not around,’ Cas disappears with his trademark rustle of feathers.

“Dean?” Charlie shakes him awake. Dean realises he’d been unconscious. “Are you okay?” She hisses when she sees all of the blood that’s soaking into Dean’s shirt, but when she lifts it there is only smooth skin.

When he gets a confused look from Charlie he shrugs and pushes himself up on one elbow. “I think Cas healed me,” he confesses, voice scraping roughly over his throat.

Charlie’s eyes bug. “He _healed_ you?” When Dean nods her eyes, if possible, get wider. “Dean you do realise that’s miracle territory right there?”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t look too happy about it.”

“But still,” Charlie breathes. “A miracle. Holy crap Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Are all the werewolves dead?”

Charlie seems to come back to herself. “Yeah. Ash is getting them all into a pile so we can burn them.”

“Use some of these cardboard boxes as fire starters,” Dean mumbles.

Charlie nods and goes to help Ash.

Dean sits up and has to plant his hands on either side of his body for support. His head spins, and he has to blink a few times to clear his vision. “Whoa. That’s weird.”

Sitting with his head in his hands, Dean gathers himself. He has no idea what Cas just did to him, but he’s currently sitting here with his head whirling, gut churning and vision blurring.

Charlie comes back, and Dean realises he has no idea how long he had been sitting there.

“Dean? Are you okay?”

“I think I’m kinda woozy. Did you and Ash clear up all of the werewolves?”

“Yeah, they’re burning. We have to leave before someone shows up Dean.”

“I don’t think I can stand up.”

Charlie grabs his arm and hauls him up. “Stop being a wuss. Come on.”

Dean staggers, leaning on Charlie heavily, and she shoots him a concerned look. “I have no idea what Cas did to me, but I am out of it, seriously. It’s like that time I got drunk and someone convinced me to smoke a few joints as well. It’s was an experience so bad that no matter what state I’m in I’ll refuse to do it.”

“Ah, off topic rambling, check. Are you sure you didn’t just bash your head on the fall?”

“Yeah, I didn’t.”

“Because that’s not confusing,” Charlie mutters.

Ash is standing in front of the fire, looking at his watch and watching for the two of them. “Guys, what’s taking… Dean? Ah, crap is that your blood?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, Cas patched me up.”

“Patched… You mean he healed you?” Ash exclaims disbelievingly. “Dude, that’s some hard core stuff.”

“My reaction exactly,” Charlie grunts. “Here, you help Dean. He’s heavy.”

Ash takes Dean, and helps him to the car. Dean feels wet stickiness against his cheek, and realises that Ash is bleeding.

“Ash, you hurt?” He mumbles. “You’re bleeding all over me.”

Ash grimaces. “Yeah, one of them got their claws in me before Charlie shot it.”

Charlie drives the Impala back to where they’re staying, and Dean tries to look drunk rather than about to faint of blood loss. It seems to work since the person sitting behind the front desk doesn’t give them a second look.

Charlie retrieves her first-aid supplies from her room and brings them back to where Ash and Dean are staying. Dean watches through lowered eyelids as she stitches Ash’s chest up. “Lucky it missed your anti-possession tattoo,” she remarks, tapping the tattoo on Ash’s left side, just underneath where the werewolf’s claws had tracked through him.

“Yeah, lucky.” Dean shivers and his hand goes to his tattoo quickly, his hand resting over his heart so he can feel the smooth skin through his shirt.

Pouring disinfectant over the wound, Ash retreats to his bed where he lays down and is snoring after a minute. Charlie comes up to Dean, hovering over him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. “I think I just need to sleep this off. You didn’t get any injuries did you?”

Charlie shakes her head. “Okay then, go to sleep. Come round in the morning, we can do a debrief, and get our asses back home.”

Charlie doesn’t look happy, but Dean gives her his best ‘obey I am your leader’ look, and she raises her eyebrows before walking around the room to check the wards, and locks the door when she leaves.

Dean sighs and gives in to the exhaustion lining his bones.

~*~*~*~

The sunlight pouring through the uncurtained window wakes him.

It’s a rather foreign feeling. His dreams usually wake him a while before the sun rises, and for work he has to get up before dawn. Ash is still snoring on the bed next to him, and hasn’t moved since Dean last saw him.

Checking the time, Dean startles when he realises that it’s after eight. Charlie must be awake by now, but he’s not sure why she hasn’t come and woken them up.

Standing and stretching, Dean marvels at the fact that this is the best he’s felt in a long time. He can’t really put his finger on why exactly, until he realises something.

He isn’t tired.

The bone weariness, eye scratchiness, dull headaches that had slowly become the norm over the last month is gone. He feels like his dreams had never become something that had plagued him, never kept him up so he went to work without sleep. He feels as though those four months with Alastair had never happened, and he’s still young and innocent to the realities of the world, even though he styled himself knowledgeable.

It’s something he hasn’t experienced in a while, so of course it disorientates him at first. Standing up, he heads into the bathroom, where he decides to brush his teeth before getting into the shower.

Spitting into the sink, Dean frowns, trying to put his finger on the one thing that was ruining the best morning he’d had in a while. It took him a few seconds to narrow it down to his left shoulder. It takes him a few more seconds to remember that that was where Cas touched him to heal him.

Apprehensively, Dean brings his hand up and lifts the sleeve of his shirt.

When the hand shaped burn is revealed, he can’t say he’s all that surprised.

He stares at the brand, and knows instinctively that the outline of the handprint would fit Castiel’s perfectly. Touching the brand feels like touching a burn, even though by itself it does not hurt, and Dean narrows his eyes at it. He doesn’t know what it means, but when he shows the others, if they make one _Touched by an_ _Angel_ joke he’s going to make them regret it.

Lowering his sleeve back over his shoulder gingerly, Dean lets out a breath of relief when it doesn’t start protesting, but after a while it starts up the low discontented hum that it had before.

Letting the cool water of the shower run over it is nice, and Dean stands with his head under the water, allowing it to stream over him, washing away the blood, dirt and filth from the hunt and leaving him feeling brand new.

After he dries himself, he creeps out past the still snoring Ash and knocks softly on the door of Charlie’s room. When there’s no answer, Dean checks outside for the Impala. When he sees that she’s gone he shakes his head.

“Let a girl near her once and she thinks that she can take her out for a spin whenever she pleases.”

Making sure that he had some cash in his back pocket, Dean starts walking down to the nearest diner. It’s probably where Charlie is, and he’s starving for some food.

It takes him fifteen minutes to get there, and he sees Charlie in the window of the diner.

Hearing he chime of the bell as he enters the small restaurant, Dean crosses to sit opposite Charlie. The red haired woman looks up and seems surprised to see Dean.

“Did you walk all the way here?”

“Well someone stole my car, so what choice did I have?” Dean looks pointedly at Charlie, who sighs.

“Sorry. I just didn’t want to disturb you from sleeping, and I still had the keys and I was hungry.”

“Yeah, well, don’t do it again.”

Charlie only has a cup of coffee in front of her, and when the waitress comes over to ask if they want any food, Dean and Charlie give her identical charming smiles.

“Yeah, some eggs and bacon if you have them, as well as some coffee, black?” The waitress nods and scribbles something down on her notebook. Her smile is much more real as she listens to Charlie and writes down a jam toast order.

“Dude she is so going to give you her number,” Dean says. He thinks of stuttering sentences and brown hair and nervous smiles and wonders if he should give Charlie another number.

Charlie smiles. “Maybe.”

Dean gets his meal and is half way through it before Charlie can finish one of her pieces of toast. “I am so hungry, and I have no idea why.”

“Maybe it was Cas healing you. It probably used up what calories you had stored up, so you’re body wants food to replenish them.”

Dean snorts. “I don’t care about the science behind it, I’m just glad he saved my ass. Oh, and remind me to tell you something later, when we’re somewhere more private.”

Charlie looks at him questioningly, but lets it lie. They eat their food in silence, Dean watching the other people in the bar, observing their lives. When the waitress comes, Dean grabs the tray and lifts the bill.

_For the pretty lady._

There is a number underneath it, and Dean waves the piece of paper triumphantly in Charlie’s face. “Told you she’d give you her number.”

Charlie grabs the paper and puts the number into her phone, grinning at Dean when he tries to grab it back off her.

“Are you gonna call?”

“If we stick around for another day,” Charlie shrugs, finishing her toast. They pay the bill and walk outside, towards the Impala.

“Mine,” Dean says. Charlie sighs but throws the keys to him, and Dean grins at the feel of the rumbling of his baby’s engine. It only takes a few minutes to drive back to the motel, and Ash is up and on the computer when they get back. Dean throws a paper bag with a few hash browns in it at him.

“Thanks man. I was wondering where you two crazy kids had gone off to.”

“Ash we’re _older_ than you.”

“In years, maybe. But I will always have the,” Ash takes a bite out of one of his hash browns and continues around a mouthful of potato. “Superior mind.”

Dean rolls his eyes and Charlie snorts. “Hey, what was that thing you wanted to show me before? When you said we were in a public place?”

“Oh yeah.” Now that the moment had come for Dean to show them the handprint he’s strangely reluctant. It seems private, or something. Shaking the thought out of his head, Dean lifts his shirt sleeve to show Ash and Charlie the handprint.

Ash nearly chokes on the mouth full of potato he’s swallowing, and Charlie’s eyes widen before her face goes carefully blank. It was an expression Dean could recognise because he used it so often himself.

“Is that where Castiel touched you when he healed you?” She asks.

Dean nods, fighting the urge to run his fingers around the edge of the mark, to trace it lightly.

Charlie licks her lips. “Well I’m not sure what to say. What did he say about it?”

“I only noticed it this morning, and I haven’t seen him since last night when he healed me. So I don’t know.”

Ash is silent in the background, still staring at the mark when Charlie speaks. “What does it mean, Dean?”

Dean shakes his head, covering the burn again. “I don’t know Charlie. I don’t know.”

~*~*~*~

Because they had gotten rid of the werewolf pack so quickly, Dean tells the other two they’re going to stay in town for another day, looking meaningfully at Charlie, who sighs dramatically but leaves with her phone in her hand. Ash says that he’s going to get some more sleep, and Dean isn’t sure how Ash can sleep any more, but he manages, his snores filling the room.

Dean spends some time not really doing anything in particular on the laptop, surfing some news sites and answering his emails. He revels in the feeling of being awake, and leaving Ash to his dreams, walks outside. Breathing in the air, he starts walking. It’s lunchtime and he’s feeling hungrybefore he stops. Half of the stores have Christmas lights in them, and the other half are still stuck on Halloween decorations, even though they’re only halfway through November. Dean shakes his head at both of them, thinking that one is too early and one is too late. He had brought his wallet, so decides to do a little early shopping. He doesn’t find much, a fancy type of crossbow bolt for Annie’s collection, and some new high tech looking headphones for Charlie and Ash. Charlie had told him once that you could never have too many headphones, and so Dean was taking that information and running with it. Hopefully they would like them for Christmas.

As he walks around he picks up any brochures that had to do with babies, children or pregnancy. Thinking he would send them all to Jess, he tucks them into a pocket, ignoring the strange looks he’s getting from some people. He grabs some lunch, and sits down for twenty minutes to eat, watching the life move around him.

It’s after two by the time that Dean makes it back to the hotel room. Charlie isn’t back and Ash had left, probably to find something to do now that it was physically impossible for him to sleep anymore.

Dean spends the afternoon cleaning the weapons and wondering if Charlie’s girl would be up for a quickie with a stranger or if she wants something more. Thinking that people who worked in diners would expect for their patrons to just be passing through, Dean thinks that Charlie has a good chance of getting laid.

When she doesn’t come in that night, and Dean gets a text saying she’d see him in the morning, he smiles slightly.

Keeping her word, both Charlie and Ash are ready to go in the morning. Dean had dreamt, he knew that much from his headache and churning gut, but he takes the blessings as they come, since he couldn’t remember anything from them today.

Getting in the driver’s side, Dean turns over the engine and waits until he hears both doors close before pressing his foot down on the accelerator and driving out of the car park, heading for Phoenix.

~*~*~*~

There’s a mountain of paperwork on his desk.

Dean is wondering if it’s possible to drown in it. If it is, then he’s doomed.

Cas is looking out the window, and has been all morning. It’s starting to get on Dean’s nerves, and he’s trying to ignore it, but it’s just really hard when you look up and there is a person standing exactly where they had been standing ten minutes ago. It feels like time is standing still, and all of the paperwork that’s piled up on Dean’s desk after the werewolf pack that he hadn’t done yet is not making this day go any faster.

Deciding to take a break from the millions of forms that he had to fill out, Dean stands and wanders over to Cas, standing next to him just so that he can brush his arm against Cas if he wants to.

The entire wall on this side is a window, to make it easier for the view and the sunlight to come through. Charlie’s trying to get curtains to cover up the glare in the afternoons, but Dean is sure that since this is basically the all of the sunlight that the team gets when they aren’t on a case, cutting it off is probably be bad idea. Rufus apparently agrees with him, since he had shot down Charlie every time she had tried to ask.

“Cas? What cha looking at?”

Cas turns his head slightly, and his eyes slide across to study Dean instead of the skyline outside.

“I am observing all of the souls that are in this city. There are many – light, dark, horrible, beautiful. Humanity fascinates me Dean. How can you all live together when fundamentally you are so different?”

“You can do that?” Dean asks, stunned. “Look at all the souls?”

“It is what I see every day, normally. An angel has ways of seeing that humans do not Dean. We can see things that only some of you can grasp. That includes your souls. Well most souls. Most are easy to understand, to comprehend, to fathom. Yours is quite a different story.”

When it doesn’t look like Cas is going to go on, Dean asks him to continue. “What are you talking about?”

“Your soul is rather tattered, but it somehow manages to have a light that keeps on shining, no matter what. It is very beautiful, even though it has flaws. But I cannot read your soul, and I cannot understand what you mean sometimes. You are a mystery to me Dean Winchester. I cannot look at you and _know_ you, like I do others. I cannot go through your mind, because it would be dangerous for you and I if I made a mistake and bought up the memories from which you hide. I cannot look at you and know what caused you have such a damaged soul, but yet have one that still shines so brightly. You are unknown to me Dean.”

Dean has his eyebrows raised as he stares at Cas.

“Uhm,” he says eloquently.

“If you wish to share what troubles you, then you may,” the angel says softly.

Dean shuts off, standing up straighter. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he says stiffly. He would walk back to his desk, but he needs to ask Cas something. He takes a steadying breath and continues. “Cas? What happened back there? Between being disembowelled and the ridiculous searing white hot pain of you literally burning your handprint into my shoulder, I kind of missed the part where you explained everything.”

Cas frowns slightly, more of a wrinkling of his brow than anything else. He moves forward and lifts the edge of Dean’s shirt up before he can move away, and studies the brand before letting the sleeve fall back and leaning backwards with a small sigh.

“You most likely missed the part where I explained because I did not explain anything,” he says in a complete deadpan, voice lowered somewhat.

Dean snorts. “Yeah I get that genius. This is the part where you _do_ explain.”

Cas casts a look around the office. “I will, but I request that you ask somewhere more private. I do not wish to discuss this here, where anyone can hear us.”

“Okay then, but you still don’t have a phone,” Dean tells him, wondering what Cas would want to keep private from the others in the office, and the other angels.

Cas turns to face him, eyes full of frustration. “Pray to me Dean. Simply say my name, and talk as if I was in the same room to you. I will hear.”

Dean scrunches his eyes up. “It’s gonna take more than that to get me to start praying Cas. I haven’t prayed in a long time, and I don’t intend to start now.”

“This is your problem Dean,” Cas says, suddenly seeming to loom over him even though he was a few inches shorter than him. There’s something sparking in his eyes, and Dean suddenly feels like he should be anywhere else but here, and he has a sudden desire to crawl in a hole somewhere and hide from that piercing blue gaze that sees too much already. “You have no faith.”

Dean feels the world slow around them, and Cas is still staring at him. Dean is holding his breath, his lungs beginning to burn, but Cas isn’t letting up and Dean can’t look away and he has no idea how long they’ve been standing there, just looking at each other. Cas is peeling back his layers, trying to see into the heart of him, while Dean trying to comprehend who Cas is, _what_ Cas is.

The angel looks away, and Dean takes a deep breath to ease his burning lungs. The angel returns to staring out the window, and Dean thinks that he isn’t going to get anything else out of him today. Making his way back to his desk, Dean tries not to look at the angel or think about what just happened. He doesn’t really succeed.

Cas keeps on glancing at him every now and again for several minutes while Dean tries to work under that gaze, refusing to look up and meet it.

Eventually Cas goes back to watching the souls of the city move and flow like the waves on a beach, like the tide in its cycle.

~*~*~*~

It’s Dean that finds the next hunt.

Charlie might gripe and moan, but she can’t fault him for this. It’s in one of his many papers, and she blusters for a minute, checking her computer resources, seeing what he had already found.

She frowns as she watches Dean smirk slightly, looking over all his research on the wall of his apartment. He can’t move it to the office since it isn’t on a board, and he couldn’t have constructed it at the office, because with the first hint of something going up Charlie would have pounced on it, and Dean had probably wanted to try and prove something, that his many subscriptions aren’t for nothing. Just because she hadn’t picked it up yet didn’t mean that she wouldn’t have. America is a big place, and she has to trawl through all of the information it produces every day, while also putting together any patterns that it produces, and overall, she likes to think she does well.

So Charlie, Annie, Ash, Rufus and Jo are all standing in Dean’s apartment, and while it might be big enough for one person, having six people in there at once is beginning to make Charlie slightly claustrophobic.

She has her laptop open in front of her, and is currently checking all of Dean’s research. When her FBI credentials take too long to get into some records, she simply breaks down their firewall with a smidge of code, _not hacking_ thank you very much, so she can get to what she wants a lot faster.

Within half an hour of being at Dean’s flat, she has all the necessary double checks done, and she nods to herself as she gives Dean’s points for finding this one before her. It’s slightly off putting even so.

It’s been a while since Charlie hunted down her last vampire.

“Yep, it’s all real info, I’ve checked.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I have complete faith in you Dean,” Charlie says. “I just thought it would be wise to double check everything, since we have someone doing it anyway back at the office.”

“Charlie’s right, Winchester. But you did good here. Not just anyone would have picked up this pattern.”

Dean smiles for half a second at Rufus’s praise. Charlie puts her laptop away, now that all the tech stuff was out of the way. She probably wouldn’t participate in this hunt, so she would let the people whose speciality it is to organise the logistics of it.

Walking into the kitchen, she opens a cupboard to find a glass so she can have a drink of water. She frowns as she finds three empty bottles of whiskey and two empty glass bottles that don’t have any labels, but also smell of alcohol when she sniffs them. There are four unopened bottles and one open one that’s nearly half gone.

Opening another cupboard she finds a number of shot glasses that look like they’re more frequently used than the slightly dusty proper glasses behind them.

Charlie rinses one out and fills it before placing it on the counter and continuing with her snooping. The ice in the freezer is gone, and new ones are setting in the ice cube maker. There’s hardly any food in the fridge, freezer or pantry. But wherever she looks she can find a full or conspicuously empty bottle, tucked away in a corner or hiding behind an appliance.

It’s enough to make her stomach turn, and Charlie wonders for how long Dean has been trying to drown himself in a bottle. None of those she found had dust on them.

Picking up her drink she winds her way into the living room, just to see Castiel appear behind Dean. Dean is looking at the map that he had on the wall and following the paths and highways with his eyes. Charlie catches the ‘Hello Dean’, and it makes her smile slightly. The others are gone, probably to go and prepare for the hunt, and Charlie watches silently in the shadow of the door as the angel and human interact.

Dean jumps and spins around, saying something she can’t hear. Deciding not to focus on the conversation, she watches their body language instead. She watches how this is the most relaxed and informal she had ever seen any of the angels, let alone Castiel, who is the poster boy for following the rules. She watches as Dean completely misses her, something that he would normally never do. She watches them both lean in slightly, watches Dean’s eyes flick down to Castiel’s lips and thinks _Oh Dean you got it bad._

She knows that something happened to Dean regarding his sexuality. She knows that it’s not her place to pry, but seeing her friend put in the position where he clearly wants something but cannot physically make himself do it would wear on anyone’s nerves.

She wonders what it was. Maybe someone touched him without his consent. Maybe he was brought up in a place where difference wasn’t tolerated. Maybe he had a parent who wouldn’t accept anyone or anything different.

Yes, that’s probably it, she thinks. She’s heard Dean talk about his mother, often in stilted sentences and almost never outside when they were alone and he was drunk. How she died when he was four, and how he had to protect his brother from there on out.

Charlie’s never heard him say one word about his father.

When she had seen Sam’s email address on an email Dean was sending, she had committed it to memory and had emailed Sam herself later that night, telling him that it was her. Since they knew each other from the crazy time when Dean had been missing, he responded almost right away. A few weeks of sending emails and she finally plucked up the courage to ask what went down with their father, since Dean never talks about him, only how their mother died when their house burnt down.

Sam had said that this was probably something she should talk about with Dean, but since he was emotionally constipated, he would give her a few starting points.

What she knows about John Winchester isn’t enough to fill a page of writing. He had been a hunter, obsessed about Mary’s death, and had always been convinced that something supernatural had been involved in it. Bobby had taken custody over the boys when Dean was 16 and Sam was 12 for a reason Sam wouldn’t divulge, and he’s still alive today, even though neither brother had heard from him in nearly fifteen years.

It isn’t much to go on, but she can easily see him beating the knowledge into Dean that people who are different were _wrong_ , and to be _hunted_ , and that _you didn’t want to be different_.

Watching Dean and his angel interact now, she wonders when they would get past that hurdle.

When. Not if.

They are still murmuring to each other when Charlie leaves, not even sure if the click of the door closing is enough to jolt them out of their focus on each other.

~*~*~*~

Cas can’t stay for the vampire hunt, and Dean tries to ignore the disappointment that shoots through him when the angel had said that he had Heavenly duties to attend to.

Victor still can’t run on his ankle, and Garth’s arm is setting, but not healed enough to even come in to the office yet. He’s getting the best treatment – the finest doctors that the FBI could give, and the best amulets and charms that Missouri could make, but it’d be another two months before he could come along on hunts. Charlie had been temporarily promoted to a member of the team to make up for the two missing people, and Jo had been partnered with Annie. The younger girl is beaming while the older hunter had rolled her eyes. Anna isn’t here, and Dean assumes that she’s doing angel stuff with Cas.

Ash is staying behind, claiming that he had been on enough hunts lately, and that he needs a break. He would take Charlie’s place, researching from the office. It was a job that either of them could do, and Dean’s glad that he didn’t need to slog through the research needed, if there is any needed. They knew all they needed to take down a group of vamps, and Dean had just re-stocked the Impala with dead man’s blood and plenty of hatchets.

Taking place in Durango, Colorado, the trip isn’t a long one, and Dean had argued for driving over flying, even if Charlie and Jo would have preferred taking a plane. It is only a seven hour drive, and Dean’s refusal to get on a plane twice in a month had cinched the deal, even in the face of Jo’s protest that their bosses would pay for the flight.

As soon as they arrive, Dean puts Jo in charge of getting them all somewhere to stay, and Charlie in charge of finding them some place to eat. There’s a diner that isn’t too run down near where they’re motel is, plus they have large tables and few customers. Annie goes and sits on a different table to Dean and Charlie, and when Jo comes back with three keys in her hand she goes over to where Annie is, not even looking in the direction of Charlie and Dean.

“She’s getting better at this stuff,” Charlie remarks.

“Yeah, I remember when I first brought her in. She was so intimidated by the city, the big buildings and the sharply dressed people. You could see how uncomfortable she was. I was afraid that I would have to send her back to Nebraska, and Ellen would tell me off for getting her hopes up. I do admit that that was the thing I was most afraid of in that situation.” Dean smiles, thinking about six months earlier when Jo had joined the team. “She’s nearly ready to go now, isn’t she? And when she comes back, she’ll be a full member of the team.”

“And you can have a permanent partner at last, instead of just me,” Charlie leans forward. “You’ll stop dragging me out on these ridiculous outings and I can sit at my computer in peace.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” Dean teases.

Charlie sniffs delicately, turning her nose up slightly. “Maybe. When is Jo going anyway?”

“This’ll be her last hunt as a junior member of the party. You can turn up any time during November, but as soon as December starts they want you all there.”

“That’s only a week away though,” Charlie says in surprise.

“Exactly. She’s been putting it off for as long as she could. I think I might have scared her a little with all my stories.”

“Well it is gruelling, but I don’t doubt she can get through it, with flying colours even.”

“Exactly what I’m thinking. She’s gonna knock the competition out of the water.”

Charlie nods, and then seems to recall that they’re on a case here. “Vampires. I haven’t done any beheading in a while.”

“Me neither,” Dean says, looking out the window. “I’m not out of practise though.”

Charlie rolls her eyes. “You probably have a dummy you can behead sitting at your house, where you can just put the head back on once you chop it off.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“ _You’re_ the one that’s all gung-ho about this,” Charlie shrugs.

“That doesn’t mean that I have a dummy that I cut the head off at home!”

Charlie looks doubtful, but she lets the subject drop. “So this is going to be the next town hit, right? They frequent bars, and take intoxicated people?”

Dean nods. “Yeah. There are two bars that they could go to in this town, so we split up. I don’t like it, but we don’t have any choice. One of us will play bait, while the other watches and calls the others if their partner gets taken. They follow them back to the nest, and we take them all out.”

“Whoever is playing bait is going to be in the most danger.”

“Exactly. Which is why I’m going to be the one doing it.”

“Don’t be stupid, I’ll be the one to do it.”

“There’s no question of who’s going to do it Charlie.”

“Yes, there is,” Charlie protests. “Look, I’m not a full time hunter like you. If you get captured, there’s no way I can take more than one vampire at a time. But if I get captured, then you can and will swoop in and rescue me. That plus the fact that you’re going to have to bath in alcohol to get yourself smelling drunk, since your tolerance levels are ridiculously high. So I’m going to be the one to do it.”

Dean scowls, but he can’t rebut any of her arguments. “I don’t like it,” he says.

Charlie grins, knowing that she’s convinced him. “You don’t have to like it, you just have to get in there before they start sucking me dry.”

Dean grumbles but agrees very reluctantly. Jo is going to play bait at the other club, and Dean isn’t happy about that either, but she puts forward basically the same arguments as Charlie. So similar in fact, that Dean is wondering if they had conspired together to be the ones baiting the vampires. He wouldn’t put it past them.

They have time to kill before the darkness falls, and Dean spends the time looking for a decent phone for Cas. The angel _still_ doesn’t have one, and Dean is _not_ going to start praying, so he needs one. It takes a few hours, but Dean finally finds one with a plan for a year with enough texting and call time on it that he thinks Cas won’t use it all.

It costs a few hundred dollars, but Dean just puts it on his company credit card. If anyone asks about it, he can say he was buying something for the angels, and no one would ask any more questions.

He trails Charlie around after that, following her wherever she wants to shop. They end up just wondering around the shopping area, talking. Dean asks if she got lucky with the waiter.

“Yeah I did, but… I don’t know. I think I want something more long term now, you know? But they’d all just ask what you do, I mean that’s one of the first questions you ask someone when you meet them, and what do I say? I work with the FBI and can’t talk about my job? Do you know how dodgy that sounds?”

Dean did know, and that was one of the reasons that he stayed away from getting to know anyone who isn’t in the know about the hunting life at least.

“I think I could solve some of your problems,” Dean tells her, and Charlie rounds on him.

“Have you been keeping someone from me? You better not have been keeping someone from me.”

“Ah, I was just getting to know her a little bit. I do know that she has a crush on you, so that should give you an opening.”

Dean steals Charlie’s phone and inputs Lara’s number into it. Charlie looks at the number for a while.

“Where does she work?” She asks.

“In IT, just general info about all the cases and paperwork that runs through the building.”

Charlie nods absently. “Okay, I’ll call her. Although I would appreciate it if you told her I had her number before I call her.”

Dean smiles. “I can do that.”

After that they spend a ridiculous amount of time in a gaming shop that Charlie spots, and Dean can only drag Charlie away after he reminds her they have to work. Charlie shoots him a dirty look but she wraps things up, giving the people behind the counter her email and phone number, and telling them that she would email them about her next LARPing session.

“I was having fun talking to them!” She protests after they leave.

“It’s after dark Charlie. We should have been in place half an hour ago.”

Charlie scowls at the sky, like it’s personally offended her.

They get to the club, and Charlie spends another ten minutes drinking out of a vodka bottle and making herself look trashed but also pretty at the same time.

As soon as she’s done, Dean helps her into the club, before spraying her with a mist bottle full of whiskey. “That’ll make you smell like you have taste,” he says. “Now remember to be careful, okay?”

Charlie huffs. “As long as you remember to not pick anyone up we’ll be fine.”

“I don’t confuse work and play, unlike some people.”

“Hey! I was just talking to them.”

“And now we’re late, come on.”

They walk into the bar, and Dean gets his phone out, ready to send or receive the text saying that Jo had been taken, and to send one to Annie if the vamps caught Charlie.

He has to watch the rest of the crowd as well as Charlie, in case she isn’t taken but another person is. Charlie is watching as well, and they have signals to tell each other if they see anything.

Around eleven, Charlie is approached by a man and a woman. She’s made sure to be the life of the party, buying rounds of drinks, making sure everyone knows she’s tipsy, dancing with anyone who wanted to, and basically getting people’s attention. Dean focuses on his friend and the people who had approached her. Charlie flicks her fingers, and that’s the signal for the vampires.

Dean sends the text to Annie, but it’s a fifteen minute drive from where they are to here, so the clock is ticking. Charlie knows she has to stall them for as long as possible without losing their interest, but it’s only five minutes later that she starts to follow them outside. Dean swears and walks out after them, making it look like he is just leaving, not going after them. There’s a black hummer in the parking lot, and Dean’s not surprised when they lead her towards it.

He touches the sword under his jacket for reassurance as he gets in the Impala, then calls Annie and puts the phone on speaker on the dash so he can drive without worrying about it.

“Black hummer, going up Main Avenue. Where are you?” Dean asks, looking for Ash’s truck.

It occurs to him that their vehicles aren’t the most inconspicuous ones out there. Maybe Charlie had a point with her suburban car, nice and common.

“Just getting there, which way are you headed?” Annie’s voice comes through the phone.

“Towards you,” Dean replies.

Dean hears the rev of the engine through the phone, and knows that Annie is probably breaking he speed limit by a considerable amount right now.

It takes another five minutes, but Dean keeps giving directions through the phone and eventually he can see the headlights of the truck in his rear view mirror. They’re reaching the outskirts of the city, and it’s probably becoming obvious to the drivers of the hummers that they’re being followed.

Dean swerves into another street and then listens to Annie’s directions as she takes over following them. Another few minutes and then he’s taking over again, just in time to see the hummer drive down an off road.

“I see where they’re turning off,” Dean says through the phone. Annie comes up behind him, and she and Jo get out of the car.

“Down there,” he says, pointing towards the dark track, winding its way between the trees.

“Don’t you love it when they conform to the stereotypes,” Jo says cheerfully.

“Have both of you got your weapons and dead man’s blood?” Jo and Annie nod.

“It’s probably only a short walk, and they’d hear the car. We need to go in by foot.”

They spend the next ten minutes quickly walking down the track, and Dean has to fight down the urge to sprint, so he can save Charlie from whatever the vampires are doing to her. But he knows that she can take care of herself, so he conserves his energy for the fight.

They come across a barn, and Dean motions for Jo and Annie to take the front while he goes in the back.

“I’ll untie Charlie, you keep them occupied,” he whispers.

Annie and Jo go around to the front, and Dean runs quietly to the back. Picking the lock on the door, he hears the sounds of fighting. Wriggling faster, he breaks it open, and comes in to a melee. Charlie is trying to wriggle out of her bonds, and Dean runs over to slice them off, and gives her his spare machete. She takes it with a grin and lops a vampires head off happily from behind.

Dean lets loose, lets himself drown in the feeling of the fight, cutting off heads, throwing darts to paralyse some vampires, and using gravity and momentum to knock others over.

Dean’s not sure how long it takes, but eventually he’s panting in a river of blood, decapitated bodies all around him. He’s blood splattered and sticky. Looking around, he sees that the others aren’t that much better. Charlie looks like she’d bathed in it, Annie wiping it off her sword and Jo checking that none of them are still alive.

It takes little time for them to soak the place in gasoline and set it alight. They watch the place burn for a few minutes to make sure that it’s not going to spread, but it’s the middle of winter and the woods around them are soaked from the storm a few days ago.

They decide to sleep for the next few hours, and Dean checks them out of the hotel in the morning, half listening to the people in the lobby talking about the mysterious blazing up of the Gregor’s old barn.

Annie had already taken over the ‘investigation,’ and it isn’t long before she had the local police closing the case, on FBI orders. They all looked a bit suspicious, but as long as nobody found the remnants of the fifteen human skeletons in the remains of the barn, they were golden.

Since Annie is taking Jo through the clean-up, Dean and Charlie hover around for a few hours until they’re done, and the remains are being shipped to their mortuary in Phoenix, who are used to getting extremely suspicious bodies from the SPN unit to cremate.

As soon as they get back, Rufus hands them the paperwork, and they all groan simultaneously, but sit down to fill them out. Dean’s just glad that no one was hurt.

He hurries through his forms, and by the time he’s finished he’s not sure if Lara will still be in the building, but he goes down to IT to try.

She is there, but it looks like she’s getting ready to leave.

“Dean!” She says. “Hi, hello, why are you here so late?”

“I gave your number to Charlie,” Dean tells her. She looks petrified for about four seconds, and then she rushes forward to hug him.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” She squeals. “Wait, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t hug you without asking, oh my god.”

“It’s fine Lara, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh my god, what if she doesn’t call? What if I stutter? What if she doesn’t like me?”

“She’ll like you, don’t worry. Just tell her that you want to go and talk over coffee, and the rest will work out, I’m sure.”

Lara gulps nervously then runs her fingers through her hair. “If you say so.”

“I do. But I have to go home now, are you coming?”

Lara quickly packs up her things and rides down the elevator with him. They part at the parking lot, Dean waving goodbye.

He doesn’t sleep that night.

~*~*~*~

Jo leaves that weekend.

Dean wishes her well, along with all the others, and feels like he’s waving goodbye to a part of his life. He’s the one who got Jo accepted into this program, he’s the one that gave her the opportunity to shine like they all knew she could, and know she was going off to training. Anna slides into the cab beside her, looking angely, like usual.

Cas is standing next to Dean, almost close enough for their arms to brush together. Dean almost wants to do that, but instead he takes a small step away from the angel. Cas glances at him questionably and Dean shrugs.

Dean tells Charlie about Lara when he gets a spare moment, and she nods, hand sliding into her pocket to play with her phone.

“She’s great, just call her for coffee.”

Charlie nods slowly, looking into the distance.

There’s a night for drinks and celebration, which Garth and Ash take as permission to get ridiculously drunk. Dean drinks as much as they do, and only gets slightly tipsy, a fact that nobody except Charlie and Cas notices. Charlie frowns at him, but Dean gives her a look, a ‘what can you do?’ Even though Cas healed him of the symptoms of not having enough sleep for a month, he can’t cure the source, and his dreams are still continuing. Dean copes as much as he can, and having a few in the middle of the night to calm his nerves has become a part of his life now.

Cas just looks at him and asks if he values his liver at all.

“I figure I’m gonna die before I’m forty anyway, so why plan for the future?” Dean slurs as he leans slightly on the angel, an hour after everyone else has left. Cas hails a cab and climbs in after him, giving the driver a fifty, telling him Dean’s address and to keep the change. The driver nods in respect for the tip, and it feels like no time has passed before they’re getting out. The drive has given Dean some time to sober up a bit, and he doesn’t have to lean on Cas as they make their way up the stairs. As the exercise clears his system some more, he just begins to feel tired. It’s been a big day, he has to work tomorrow, and he just wants to crash.

Cas opens the door, and there must have been some sneaky mojo at work there because Dean did not leave the door unlocked and Cas doesn’t have the key.

Cas helps him into his room, and Dean pulls his shirt, shoes, socks, belt and jeans off, not realising that he’s doing it completely unconsciously in front of the angel until he feels Cas’s gaze roaming over him. When he turns the angel’s eyes are on his face, but Dean can’t shake the feeling that the angel had been sneaking a peek. Well not exactly sneaking, since it had been Dean undressing in front of him, but you get the idea.

Whatever. He’s drunk and not bothered enough to think that train of thought through.

Sliding under the covers, Dean looks up at Cas through half lidded eyes, fighting off a yawn, already ready to sleep, dreams be damned.

“Dean...” Castiel pauses. Hesitates, for just a second. And Dean sees it, notices how something like Cas that is usually so eloquent and assured, is stumbling over the sound of his name, over the thing that the angel is about to ask. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Now Dean would have normally drawn the line at that. Having something not human stay in his apartment while he slept? While he was drunkenly passed out? That was a no go, an absolute line, and the angel had just crossed it.

Yet Dean heard himself saying, “Sure Cas,” like it’s nothing, like it’s perfectly normal. But Dean sees that Castiel understands the magnitude of the trust that had just been placed at his feet, and it makes Dean feel more open and exposed than he had been in a long time. “Do you want me to make up the spare bed?”

“I do not need to sleep Dean,” The angel says, and Dean should have known that, I mean what supernatural creature slept, really, and _that_ was really where Dean should have said yep, no thanks, leave please, and yet he didn’t. He just nods at that angel, murmurs out a ‘goodnight’ and pulls the covers over his head.

It shows how far he had come with the angel when he falls asleep straight away, not worried about what could happen in the night, only knowing that an angel is watching over him, just as his mother had always told him, and that he would be safe until morning.

~*~*~*~

 _Blood red sharp pain screaming black darkness demons Alastair laughing in his ear you’re_ mine _Dean no one else’s mine mine mine mine my weapon and don’t you forget –_

Dean thinks that waking up is the best and worst part of his dreams. On one hand he can tell himself that it’s over, and that it’s not happening to him anymore, that it’s _over_. On the other, he has to face the reality _that it happened_.

“Do you experience these dreams every night?”

Dean shoots up, supporting himself on his wrists and feeling them pop. “Fucking hell Cas.”

“You did invite me to stay.”

Dean rubs a hand over his eyes. “Yeah, well I was drunk last night. People do stupid things when they’re drunk. Do you have to wake me up by speaking to me every single time you’re here?”

“I did not wake you. You were simply lying there with your eyes closed. I’m assuming that you were trying to orientate yourself after your dream.”

Dean swallows. “I didn’t dream.”

Cas is watching him, like he knows that Dean doesn’t mean that, and Dean can’t look at those eyes that see everything when he’s already feeling so broken and torn.

He pushes the blankets back and stretches, still feeling Cas’ eyes focused on him. He brushes past Cas, just enough for the angel to grab his elbow.

“I do not know what you dream of Dean,” the angel says, and Dean takes a moment to close his eyes as he feels the dizzying rush of relief go through him at the fact that Cas doesn’t know, before looking at the angel.

“But if you want, if you let me in, I could possibly help.”

Dean looks at the angel doubtfully, not knowing what he meant. “What, like let you inside my head?” He asks.

Cas looks down at his shoes, at the carpet, for a long second. “Yes. If your soul was not so damaged then I could do it without your permission, but having anything inside you when you don’t want it to be there would most likely tear you and whoever was trying into pieces.”

Dean blinks. “What do you mean… you could help?” He’s too cynical to not look a gift horse in the mouth, to think that Cas could help him that easily.

“If you let me inside your mind, there will be no danger. I could look at the memory that troubles you, and I could sooth it, or block it off from your mind so you cannot remember it.”

Dean shifts uncomfortably away from Cas. “Yeah, thanks but no thanks. I don’t need anyone digging through my head.” And even if his memories are shitty, they’re still _his_. He should have all of his memories available to him. They’re what make him who he is.

Cas doesn’t look disappointed or upset, simply nodding. “It is your choice. Since you are already awake, do you wish to get ready for work now?”

Dean checks the time on the clock next to his bed. It’s half an hour earlier than he would normally get up, and he takes a moment to turn off the alarm.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Cas nods before going to sit on the couch, making no move to turn the TV on. Dean sighs softly. He had managed to get Cas to sit down now when he comes over, but the angel doesn’t understand why Dean would be interested in watching the TV, or why he should watch it.

Dean showers and eats, offering food to Cas, who, like usual, declines.

“Come on Cas, let’s go.”

~*~*~*

Charlie wipes her hands nervously against each other, looking around for Lara. Dean had said that she’s brunette, short, and babbles when she’s nervous. She hadn’t been too bad on the phone when Charlie had called and arranged the meeting. When Lara had suggested coffee and afternoon tea at a local restaurant she knew, Charlie agreed immediately. It sounded like a nice way to get to know her, as well as seeing what food she liked.

Charlie knew that Dean wouldn’t have given her Lara’s number without doing a full background check on her first, so she hadn’t, resisting the temptation, afraid it would ruin their relationship before it even started.

Lara had said to be here around two thirty, and it was just after twenty past. She’s only wearing work gear, and has to hope that that’s enough for the other woman.

Another few minutes pass, and then the building door opens. Charlie turns to look, and takes in the woman who has just left the building.

A slip of a thing, she couldn’t have weighed over sixty kilos. Brown hair that’s tied up in a bun, but Charlie could see that when released it would be long. She’s wearing heels, tall ones, and she still doesn’t come up to Charlie’s height. The bones in her face are delicate and sharp, eyebrows plucked, and make up sparingly but professionally applied. She is wearing a black suit over a purple top, which complements her skin colour.

All in all, she looks hot.

Charlie smiles. _First test passed._

“Hey,” she calls, walking over. “Are you Lara?”

The girl looks up, and hot damn, those eyes are pretty, large and brown and wide. “Uh, yeah, I’m Lara. You’re Charlie, right? I mean you’re standing here, asking for me, and we agreed to meet here and it makes sense that you would be Charlie.”

Charlie nods. Lara swallows after a pause.

“So we going to your café?”

Lara nods. “Yeah, it’s run by the sister in law of a guy I used to work with. Carly makes really good food, you’ll like it, I’m pretty sure.”

“Sounds cool. Lead the way.”

It isn’t a long walk. On the way there, Charlie asks Lara how she is, and if anything’s happened really in her life recently. Lara says she’s good, and no. Then she asks the same questions, and Charlie says she’s well. She thinks about werewolves and vampires and her crazy life.

“Just the usual work stuff. Nothing exciting.”

Lara nods, but a flicker of doubt crosses her face before disappearing. “Okay. Here it is.”

Charlie looks down the small street, and there’s a café about half way down that she has to be talking about. It’s cute and screams ‘family run.’

Lara leads her in, waving to the woman behind the counter, who perks up and immediately comes over to where they’re sitting, abandoning the task of wiping down the counter, which she had only been doing half heatedly anyway.

“Lara, hi! How are you doing? Who’s your friend?” The woman – Carly – has her hair pinned up, and an apron covered in flour on. She smells like coffee and sugar, and her smile is warm, if cautious, as she looks at Charlie.

“Hey Carly, I’m doing well thanks. This is Charlie, she’s from work.”

Carly looks Charlie over again, more appraisingly. “I see.” She says after a long pause. “Do you want me to get you two anything?”

“A mocha for me please.”

“Same here,” Charlie adds. Lara flashes her a small smile.

Carly leaves, and Charlie leans back in the booth, looking Lara over. Lara is looking right back, and Charlie hopes what she’s finding satisfies her.

“So. Dean. How did you two meet?”

Lara tilts her head slightly. “I was down near Lighters, on my way to my car, and ten guys surrounded me, saying that I was going to go with them. Dean shows up, beats up five in three seconds and has the others running in ten. He looks me over, tells me I’m unharmed, and takes me back to my car. He must have recognised the number plate or the model as one of the company’s cars, because he asked if I worked here. I said that I did, and he said that he worked here as well. We just bumped into each other every now and again after that, and we said hi each time. One time you were with him, but you were looking through a folder, and he must have noticed me looking, because the next time he caught me he asked me about you.” She shrugs. “And about two months later he gave me your number. You called, and here we are.”

Charlie frowns slightly, but wipes it off her face. _What was Dean doing near Lighters?_ The only things down there are seedy bars and abandoned warehouses.

Charlie nods, putting the thought away for later. “Okay then. Just letting you know, the only things I know about you is that Dean saved you from a bunch of nasty guys and that he thinks you’re safe to date me. No looking at any files, I promise.”

Lara smiles slightly. “Same.”

“Although Dean looked through your file, but he said you were fine, and that man goes through everything relating to someone he cares about with a comb that has a finer touch than the pixels on my computer screens, and that’s saying something.”

Lara blinks. “Okay then, I guess I can live with that. I suppose we can’t really discuss work here, can we?”

 _Or in this entire arrangement. If there’s going to be an arrangement. Damn it Charlie, stay cool._ “No, not really.”

“Well then. What do you do for fun?”

“I game a lot,” Charlie confesses, and watches Lara’s eyes light up.

“Yeah? What are we talking about here?”

_Second test passed._


	6. The Plot Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Annie and Victor get in over their heads in a demon hunt, Dean is called in to help. With Castiel by his side, Dean realises that the demon is no ordinary damned soul - it's Alastair. With trouble piling up, Dean has to trust the angel by his side, even as he begins to sort out why now of all times they've decided to make an appearance, and what they could have in store for humanity.

“Victor, Annie, you feel ready for a job?” Charlie asks.

Dean looks up at Charlie, and she mouths ‘demon’ at him. Nodding, Dean goes back to his work, half listening half trying to ignore the conversation as Charlie lays out her information and asks if they think it’s signs of a demon. Dean privately thinks that it does sound like one, and the others reach the same conclusion. Half an hour later Annie and Victor have permission from Rufus, have what they need from the weapons room, and are leaving for Ohio. Cas isn’t around and Dean’s glad he doesn’t have to explain to the angel why Dean isn’t the one taking care of the case and Victor and Annie are instead, especially when Dean has angel power to back him up.

Cas is hovering around the next few days though, and Dean is becoming more and more used to the lurking, even when it still creeps him out a little. The times that startle him the most is when he would wake up and Cas would be watching him. The fact that Cas could just come in whenever he wants and Dean would have no idea that he’s there is getting on his nerves.

Dean had tried to tell the angel that hovering isn’t cool and normal people didn’t do that, but to no avail. When he had rolled over in the morning and found blue eyes studying him unblinkingly, he had put his foot down. He had been late for work, but he had made it very clear to the angel that not only was it not appropriate to be inside Dean’s room while he was sleeping without his permission, he made sure Cas knew that he didn’t want him in his room. He had particularly horrible dreams of being watched for the next few days. He hadn’t asked how long Cas had been standing there, because he was afraid that the angel would answer all night.

Dean thinks that Cas still doesn’t understand the concept of personal space or why exactly Dean hadn’t wanted him in his room, but he is certain the angel would stay out now.

Dean knows that Annie and Victor had arrived in Ohio when Charlie starts getting emails and calls from them. It becomes more and more apparent with every furtive look in Dean’s direction that Charlie wants to call him over but she doesn’t want to bother him with whatever they are finding.

One night Charlie asks if she can take him out, relax a little, maybe help Dean pick up some girls at a local bar. Dean, never one to say no, agrees and they both leave before eight, daring Rufus to say something. The older man rolls his eyes and waves for them to go.

The bright lights and too loud music resonate around them as Dean orders their first drinks. Charlie sits down next to him, and Dean agrees that the night isn’t late enough for people looking to head over to someone else’s apartment.

“So what’s Annie and Victor doing that has you wound up so tight?” Dean says, nearly yelling over the music and voices.

“Nothing really. They’re just finding some stuff and… well I can understand why you try to avoid the demon cases.”

“Do you need me to take a look at anything?”

“No, no, we’re fine. Really,” she says and Dean sends her a disbelieving look.

“If you say so,” Dean replies sceptically, before he’s distracted by a very fine looking ass walking past.

“Why don’t you go and hit that,” Charlie suggests, even as her eyes glint with suppressed frustration, and she knows that Dean won’t do it.

“Charlie.” Dean just says her name, not needing anything else to convey his annoyance. This wasn’t a part of Charlie’s life, it was his, and really, she had no business poking into it.

“Yeah yeah, we’ve had this conversation before. All I’m saying is, you really think I’m going to judge?”

“I know you won’t. That’s just not the problem.”

Charlie lets out a deep breath. “Just tell me what the problem is then. I can help, I can help you past it, I can listen, whatever you need.”

Dean looks down at his beer. “I need you to drop it. Charlie, I’m not going to talk about it, and that’s that.”

Charlie hmms a little, but she’s looking after the guy like she might go and ask him to start hitting on Dean, just to get something happening.

“You’ll have to face whatever it is you’re hiding from some day,” she says.

“Yeah, well someday isn’t today,” Dean grunts out, and he hears Charlie’s little sigh of defeat before she slides off her seat and winds her way into the crowd towards the dance floor. Charlie had always liked dancing.

Dean orders another drink.

~*~*~*~

Five days after Victor and Annie had left, Dean gets tired of the looks Charlie is sending him. Everyone except for those out on the field are in the room when Dean stands up and goes over to Charlie.

“What’s up?” He asks flatly. He’s not going to take no for an answer, and Charlie probably knows him well enough to realise that he isn’t going to back off.

By her sigh of relief, she was probably waiting for Dean to come over so she didn’t have to ask him, which is a pretty shitty thing to do, but Charlie dislikes making anyone uncomfortable, and that includes Dean and demons.

“Can you identify who or what type of demon would make marks like this?” She asks.

Dean walks around to look over Charlie’s shoulder as she brings up a closed tab that had numerous pictures on it and started scrolling through them.

Dean looks at the pictures on Charlie’s computer. When he sees what’s on the screen, he closes his eyes and tries to fight the urge to vomit. “I wanted to think it would never come,” he whispers into the silence of the room, and feels everyone’s eyes on him.

“What would never come?” Garth asks, puzzled.

“Hush,” Charlie shushes him.

“Dean?” Cas asks softly, coming up next to him and gently placing a few fingers under his elbow. Dean feels his nausea receding, and looks thankfully at Cas.

“Thanks,” he mutters. “Close that, please. I don’t need to know anything else. I don’t need to _see_ anything else.”

Dean tugs his elbow out of Cas’s slight grip, turning and leaning against the wall, closing his eyes and putting his head against the wall as well. He can still feel everyone looking at him, and it’s bringing back memories of being observed and looked at and picked apart every second of every day for months on end. “Stop it,” he says. “Stop it, please. Don’t look at me.”

Charlie immediately turns her back, and yanks Ash and Garth around with her. Rufus and Krissy hesitantly turn their backs. Cas half turns but keeps one eye on him, and Dean’s grateful for that, the reminder that he’s not alone, that the angel might not know what happened to him, but he can probably see the distress winding its way through his soul and into his stomach and _oh yes here it comes._

Throwing up in a plant bowl is not fancy.

Garth winces at the sound, and Cas keeps silently watching him, and while it came across as probing and searching from the others, he didn’t feel like he would ever need to get away from Cas’s gaze.

Whoa. Where did that come from?

Shaking it off, Dean wipes the back of his hand over his mouth and stood up. “Anyway.”

“Dean?” Rufus asks. “What is it?”

“A call. A call that he sends out to us, that he sends when he needs us.” Dean feels like he’s underwater, his head spinning, fighting off memories from his four months of Hell. “I need to go,” he says, standing up. “Where are they?”

“Ah, Ohio, what do you mean you have to go?”

“Yes, Ohio, _‘With God All Things Are Possible.’_ Makes sense, that’s what he would do.” Dean lets the laugh that is bubbling up inside him out. It comes out dark and desperate, a remnant of a time where he had been hopeless and lost. The other five people and the angel in the room flinch at the sound, looking at him worriedly. “Makes sense,” repeats. “Yes, I have to leave, have to go to him.” Grabbing his jacket, Dean starts to walk out the room before three sets of hands grab him. Charlie, Rufus and Krissy are all hanging onto him, and Cas is standing in front of the door to the room, when he was leaning against the far wall only a second ago.

“Dean,” Rufus starts, voice low. “Boy, what are you doing?”

“He told us Rufus. Alastair told us,” Dean says, staring off at the wall of the building. “He told us to come to him when he sent the call. This is the signal. I have to go.”

“Dean you’re not going anywhere. Annie and Victor have this one.”

“No.” Dean whispers. “No they don’t.”

The people surrounding him are looking well and truly scared now, but Dean is beyond caring, his emotions and mind numb. “That’s what we were made for. To help find it. A spell.”

Cas turns him so he is looking into his eyes. “Dean. Look at me. What are you finding? What spell?”

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t know, he never told me, I could never figure it out, just that we would be used to find something.”

Cas narrows his eyes slightly and reaches out, places a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean feels the world move around him, feels the weightlessness of flight, nausea, sickness and then suddenly he’s on flat ground with the cool of night air surrounding him, and the contrast of the two has him heaving before he can realise what has happened.

He vaguely hears Annie and Victor’s voices from far away, but vomits again before he can look around. He realises he’s leaning against something, something person shaped but not moving at all, realises that it’s Cas and hurriedly tries to remove himself from the angel’s grip. Cas refuses to let him go, holding Dean by his arm and the back of his shirt.

When he finally feels like he’s not going to choke up his stomach from his mouth, Dean stands, and grunts at Cas to let him go. The shorter man does reluctantly, and Dean still sways when he stands up completely, and sees the slightly bemused looking Cas in front of him, covered in puke from the waist down.

“Oh my god,” Dean mutters, feeling himself flush bright red from embarrassment. Cas blinks and suddenly he’s completely clean.

Annie and Victor are looking at him in shock. “Did you fly me here?” Dean asks Cas, who nods.

Dean can hear the others on the end of the phone Annie is holding to her head, and isn’t that disorientating?

Cas stands at his elbow, touching him slightly, and Dean feels his healing mojo run through him, calming his stomach and head, making him feel better.

“My apologies. The first time is the worst. Over time you will get used to the feeling.”

Dean rubs his head. “Well. Okay.” So flying is something that happens now? Shrugging it off as unimportant at the moment, he raises his head and looks around. They’re on a long street, but he can’t see anyone anywhere. He wouldn’t have needed Charlie or anything else to tell him Alastair is here when he can feel the demons presence in the town. “Let’s get this show on the road. Annie, where did you find the body?”

“Ah, the last building on the main street, a house with no one living in it. It’s a crime scene, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find, yellow tape out the front. Why?”

Dean is already walking down the road.

“Dean! What are you doing?” Victor is trying to run after him but his ankle is still not fully healed, and he has to slow down after a few steps. Annie is on the phone, looking concerned and apparently talking to Charlie, who is probably slightly hysterical at this point, but Dean is still beyond caring, the ultimatum that Alastair gave him all those years ago running through his head. He doesn’t pause to consider why Cas has transported them here, or why the angel is following him silently when before he had seemed intent on stopping Dean.

Cas is walking beside him, and Dean can feel the angel’s gaze pressing on him. “How do you know Alastair?” The angel asks, and there’s something about that moment, maybe the fact that Cas brought him here, or that he wasted mojo to help him feel better, or maybe he’s just dumb, but Dean can’t lie or avoid him anymore, the need to tell Cas everything rising up in his throat, spilling words whether he wanted it to or not.

“About two years ago, we ran into Meg, and she said that I would be a good student for a plan that the demons were implementing. Before we even got home from that hunt there was a car pileup, and I got possessed. By Alastair. This was before we had the anti-possession tattoos, understand. He took me for four months, and he tortured people while he was in me, and he kept me awake for every second of it. He taught me how to torture, all the different methods, pounded it all into my head. But that wasn’t all that he taught me, and now I can recognise nearly any demons work, I know about Lucifer’s Crypts, I knew where the knife was. I know things that I shouldn’t, dead languages and evil facts, how Hell works and more about torture than any sane person should and how to get someone to talk.

“I was the first student, and he told me that there would be others, and that when we saw the signal he needed us where it was found. He told me that I knew what he would do if I didn’t come and yes, I knew what he would do, he would go to Sam, because he knows _everything_ about me Cas. Everything. He dug through my head, and he took what he wanted and shaped and moulded me until I wasn’t even myself anymore. That’s what my dreams are about you know. They’re horrible and I just want them to end but I’m sure that they’re not going to anytime soon.”

Cas isn’t even looking where he was walking, his head turned towards Dean as he spills his heart out. The angel’s eyes are wide and soft, and not judgemental at all, and Dean feels like he can talk forever and the angel would listen to what he had to say. The effect is calming, and Dean continues on more softly.

“That’s why I have to go, mainly. I can’t let anything happen to Sam, but I also have this voice, this part of me, in my head, that’s telling me to go to him, to rip off my skin to get the tattoo off, because _a part of me liked it_ Cas. A part of me wants to _continue_ to do that, even though there’s no demon under my skin, to use the knowledge he taught me. That’s what scares me the most, I guess.” Dean avoids Cas’s eyes as he speaks, watching his feet as they fly, taking him down the path and towards his Hell.

The angel doesn’t say anything, and Dean is afraid that he’s scared him off, that Cas has finally seen how rotten and dark Dean is inside and regrets ever being assigned him as a partner. A minute passes and Dean finally gathers the courage to look at where the angel had been. He’s convinced that there would only be empty space there, that Cas had flown off, but the deep blue eyes are still on him, still looking at him, probably trying to examine his soul or some shit like that. Dean is unexplainably angry. Why is Cas still here? Doesn’t he see how broken and tormented and wrong Dean was? _Is_?

”You humans are very contradictory,” the angel says, and Dean stops and turns to face him.

“What do you mean?” he asks, angrily. He had just laid open an extremely broken and hurt part of himself, and what does the angel have to say? Some stupid observation on the human species.

“Your body language is telling me that you wish for me to go, and you’re projecting that you think that I’m gone, and when you turn around you’re angry I’m still here. Yet your soul is calling out for help, a plea for aid, and a cry for assistance. You want me to be here right now Dean. And while I cannot help your inner demons, I can help with the outer ones. Alastair is inside this house, and I will attempt to help, if you let me. Can you do that Dean?”

Dean hesitates. While he might have told the darker haired man about his past, was he ready for Cas to intercede with his future?

With a jolt, Dean realises that he already has. Ever since he had trusted Cas to stay the night and not kill him in his sleep, he’s been factoring Cas into his future. What he wants to do, what he can do, what different hunts it would be useful to have an angel with him on, what new things he could show Cas. Swallowing, Dean _looks_ at the shorter man, really looks at him. The trench coat is thankfully vomit free, the tie is on backwards and the shoes could use a shine. He looks like an unassuming individual, someone you could pass on the street on your way to work every day for years and not even notice. But there’s something there, something in the shine of his eyes maybe? How he holds himself? How he moves and acts? Something that labels him as _not human_ , as _be cautious_ , as _danger_.

And yet when did all those things stop coming through to Dean?

He can still feel them, can still acknowledge that they’re there. But it’s like they’re sailing over his head, a broadcast for the rest of the world but not for him. When did that happen?

Dean feels a pull of something in his chest, something that he doesn’t want to name, and he hurriedly tucks all these extra thoughts to the back of his mind, to think about later. For now, only one question matters.

Does he trust Cas?

Dean doesn’t know whether to be surprised or not when the answer is a resounding _yes_.

“Yeah. I guess if you want to come then you can. I mean, you don’t have to. This is Alastair, and he’s probably going to want to sacrifice me or something.”

“I am sure,” Cas says so convincingly that Dean wonders how anyone can argue with him.

“Okay then, let’s go.”

Dean takes a deep breath and opens the door, the fact that the lock is missing another giveaway that Alastair wants people to be able to come in here. It squeaks loudly, and Dean winces slightly, knowing that Alastair would know they were here now.

He’s deluding himself, thinking that the demon hadn’t known that they were there.

Cas follows him silently, so silently that Dean looks behind him to see if Cas is still there. The angel’s face is drawn and serious, and Dean shivers – he can see no way that it could be taken for human. There’s a silver tri-blade in Cas’s hand, and Dean looks at it curiously before turning back towards the dim hall. When he’s faced with a choice of either upstairs or the basement, he chooses the stairs with no hesitation.

“What?” He asks peevishly when he looks around to see Cas looking at him inquiringly. “He thinks he’s above everyone. He would choose upstairs so he could look over everyone and everything, and think himself master of it all.”

Cas is apparently satisfied with this explanation, since he nods and motions for Dean to keep walking. Dean holds the knife out in front of him, walking down the hallway for the room that overlooks the street.

Opening the door slowly, Dean peers inside, and is only half surprised when he feels something connect with the back of his head.

~*~*~*~

That’s the first colour to register in Dean’s head. He blinks several times, shakes his head and turns his face away from the heat of the flames from the circle that surrounds Cas. The angel is looking at him worriedly, and Dean feels something stir inside him, both at the concern aimed at him and the way that Cas is very obviously trapped.

“Finally awake Dean?” A nasally voice whines from the corner of the room.

Alastair has a light beard, ears that stand out from his head, and blood covering his arms up to his elbows. There’s a body on the table in front of him, and Dean tries to ignore how the young girl’s head is tilted towards him, her eyes wide and unbelieving, like she can’t believe she had been killed.

Her intestines are casually laid out next to her, and as Dean watches Alastair reaches in and rips out her spleen, holding it up to his face and inspecting it before placing it next to her kidneys and the deftly coiled guts. Drops of blood splatter on the floor, almost like an afterthought.

“She was pretty wasn’t she Dean-o?”

Dean purses his lips and looks towards Cas, who has not looked away from him, regarding him silently.

 _Sorry_. Dean tries to send the message to the angel, and Cas inclines his head slightly.

“I bet you would have liked carving her up. You always did like them more. Prettier, I guess.” Alastair’s voice is grating on Dean’s nerves, and he had only listened to several sentences spoken by the demon. He had picked the perfect host.

“The others aren’t here yet, so we can have some time to catch up.” Alastair drags a chair up and sits on it with the back towards Dean, his legs on either side, hands slowly dripping blood onto Dean’s shoes. He tries to squirm away as much as he can, but the demon grins lewdly before scooting closer and making sure that he gets as much blood on Dean as he can manage.

“What cha been doin’ Dean-o? Have you given in, maybe got a little bloody with some of the bodies they bought in? Or maybe you picked up some fresh meat yourself?” The demon leans even closer, and the hot wash of sulphuric breath drenches Dean for a moment, leaving him gasping. Cas takes half a step closer before giving the flames an aggravated look.

“And you picked up a pretty night light on your travels, huh? Where does a lowly hunter find an angel, let alone an angel who follows him around?”

“Cas doesn’t follow me anywhere,” Dean says, trying not to vomit from the stench that’s making its way from the demon to his human senses.

“I don’t know. He’s clearly attached to you.” Alastair traces his finger over his cheek, leaving a trail of blood.

Alastair cocks his head suddenly. “Well well well, looks like someone else is here. You got here fastest Dean, don’t worry, you’re still my favourite.” Alastair pinches his cheek and stands up. “Better go let them in,” he leers, making his way out of the room.

As soon as the door swings closed Dean turns to Cas. “Are you okay?” He coughs, looking the angel up and down, trying to ignore the stickiness of the blood coating his cheek from Alastair’s fingers.

“Yes, of course. I am simply contained by the holy fire. It is very annoying.”

“Yeah well I did warn you that he knew we were coming and that it was probably a trap.”

“You would have walked in here anyway.”

“Maybe,” Dean concedes, looking away from Cas to the other side of the room, only to drop his eyes to the floor when he makes eye contact with the dead body.

“Is there any way we can get out of there?” Dean asks, trying to shove desperation deep down.

Cas narrows his eyes, looking around the room. “Can you get out of your bonds?” the angel asks.

“He took all my tools, but I can dislocate my thumbs to get out if I need to, although I’d rather not.”

Cas nods, still looking around. “I have my angel blade, so there is nothing he can do to permanently harm me, unless he douses me in holy oil and sets me alight, which I doubt he’ll do because he would not have enough and it would be unwise to waste it all on killing one angel.”

“Reassuring,” Dean mutters.

“Yes it is.”

Dean narrows his eyes at Cas, who apparently doesn’t see anything wrong with his statement.

The door opens again, and Alastair leads two people, a man and a woman, into the room. There’s something off about each of them, something that Dean can’t quite put his finger on.

“Looks like these two were travelling together, so let’s get the party started, yeah?” Alastair grabs a ceremonial knife off the tray that’s lying next the girl and wheels out a small table from the corner that’s thankfully blood free. It doesn’t stay that way for long, as Alastair slices the knife over the man’s throat and uses the blood to paint a number of symbols on the table. Dean’s never seen them before, but by the way that Cas flinches and turns his back on them, he’s going to assume that they have some sort of significance.

Alastair throws the man’s body over in the corner, and his gaping throat is like a second red smile, weeping blood, and Dean realises what was off about these people. They want to be here, and unlike him, they aren’t operating under any threats. They just want to be here.

Alastair starts chanting over the symbols, and as he does he produces ingredients and plants from nowhere and places them into a bowl. He then snaps his fingers at the bowl and the whole thing catches on fire, and he keeps on chanting through it all, harsh sounds that sound cut off and incomplete, in a language that Dean has never heard before.

Cas looks like he’s trying not to cover his ears, and he’s watching Alastair with a single minded purpose. Dean is suddenly reminded of Cas’s talk with Meg, how he wanted to know if she knew where something was, and how this looks like a locating spell.

Dean wonders if he would finally be able to figure out what the hell the angels want.

Alastair keeps chanting for another few minutes, and then suddenly Dean feels himself begin to feel light.

“Whoa, that’s strange,” he mumbles, and Cas shoots him a concerned look.

“Dean? What is happening?”

“Everything’s getting shiny… and I feel light. Like, no weight.”

Cas looks concerned for the moment longer that Dean can see his face before Cas suddenly becomes a blazing pillar of light. Dean turns his face away, and it seems that as long as he doesn’t look at Cas he’s alright. “Cas, turn down the light show, would you?”

The light that is Cas moves and swirls and Dean gets the feeling that it’s confused, even if he can’t see a scrap of the body that is Castiel.

The entire room had suddenly erupted in colours, the wood glowing a dark green, the glass a light yellow, the carpet a smoky red. When Dean looks at what Alastair is doing, he sees the smoke from the burnt ingredients trail off but a deep black smoke spread out and cover the roof of the room.

He can’t see Alastair’s body any more, only the moving black smoke that’s the demon within, and the person behind the demon had a very dim glow that seems to surround him.

This is weird.

The light that has taken over where Cas is standing is still there, and it seems to be in direct opposition to the darkness that is Alastair. Dean realises that he’s probably seeing the essence of things, their souls maybe, and he wondered if this was what psychics lived with every day. No wonder Pamela said it could be overwhelming at times.

He can almost see the words as they leave Alastair’s mouth, words of power doing powerful things, searching, finding, looking. Dean isn’t sure what for, but he knows it’s trying to discover the location of something.

When the demon stops, all the words arrange into an arrow, pointing south west, Dean thinks.

Alastair lets out an unamused sound. “Well that’s not really any help,” he says, then walks over to Dean, and without warning grabs one bound hand and slices the already bloody knife across his palm.

“I’d better not catch anything from that,” Dean grunts, trying to focus on the demon in front of him and not the cold sizzle of pain making itself known through his hand and his arm.

He slices through the neck of the woman and gathers her blood in the bowl as well, before muttering more incantations over it. Dean’s vision starts to return to normal, and he can bear to look at Cas again. Alastair takes a map out and holds it above the mixture, and it stains slowly, dark thick blood-like looking liquid dripping out of the page as all of it but a small section becomes unable to be used.

“Well looks like we have a destination, huh Dean? What do you say, want me to peel off that little tattoo and hop inside you again, go for a little spin, see what’s happening out there? I know you miss it, I can see it in your eyes.”

And a part of Dean wants it. _Wants_ to say yes to Alastair, because he has missed being that close to someone, having someone control all your emotions and thoughts and feelings and being remade into something that someone likes and _wants_. But Dean takes that urge and shoves it down, looking the demon right in the eye and shaking his head.

“No thanks, I think I’ll pass on this one.”

Alastair leers over him, sending a wave of sulphur into his face. “If you’re sure Dean-o… Of course I could just take you again. But that’d be counter to our course. I am willing, however, to maybe break you a little more…”

Dean sees Cas moving out of the corner of his eye, and tries to ignore it, not wanting Alastair to know that the angel was doing something.

“Hmm, yes, another few months is just what you need. I can see that you haven’t broken yet, and you’re probably not going to unless I do something. Not many people hold out you know.”

Dean sees how Cas stamps out a small swath of fire with debris and carpet, how the angel disappears, and Dean has one moment to be rather shocked at how surprised he is that the angel would just abandon him here, before he feels the weight of a hand on his arm and then the sickening weightlessness of moving far too fast through space in too short a time, and he’s standing in the office again, daylight streaming through the window, Uriel and Anna standing in the middle of the room surrounded by his friends and colleagues before he’s throwing up, _again_.

Dean feels like he’s emptied his guts more times in the last day than he has in the last ten years.

~*~*~*~

Dean holds an ice-pack to his head to try and calm his raging headache that Cas can’t do anything about, since apparently it’s a stress headache and would only come back. He had conjured the ice-pack though, and healed his palm. Dean’s thankful for that.

He’s answering the _hundredth_ question about Alastair and Cas and what had happened when Cas suddenly moves next to him.

“Dean needs to leave now. He will answer any other questions that you have in the morning.”

And before Dean can protest, or even turn around to look at Cas, there’s a hand on his shoulder and his surroundings moved around him and he barely stops himself from throwing up _again_.

Instead he hangs limply off Cas, and damn it this had better not be happening again after this. Ever again. The ice-pack had fallen out of his hands and his head is beginning to throb.

“You need to sleep,” Cas murmurs. Dean can’t really argue with that. The flying alone would have taken it out of him.

“I really, really don’t want to relive everything that’s happened today Cas.”

“I can cancel any dreams that you may have if you let me.”

Dean grimaces. “The soul reaching thing?”

Dean can feel Cas’s quiet amusement next to him. “Yes, the ‘soul reaching thing.’”

“Fine,” Dean grunts out. “Do it. Whatever.”

Cas guides him over to the bed and then he’s standing there with just his boxers on. “Handy,” he murmurs quietly, too exhausted to have up any of the shields that he normally would have tight around him.

Maybe that’s why when he looks up at Cas, he really… looks up at Cas.

The angel’s eyes are wide and so fucking blue, shit, how did anybody have eyes that blue? Cas’s arm is still around him, still supporting him and Dean didn’t really mind, since there were no other people around. The angel had stopped trying to move him anywhere, and instead was simply just gazing back, studying Dean with that quiet intensity, which, like always, gave Dean the feeling that his layers were being peeled off so Cas could stare at his soul.

Dean’s arm is around Cas as well and he suddenly had this feeling… like… he should put the other arm around Cas as well. And maybe convince the angel to wrap him up in both of his arms. And maybe just tilt his head down, ever so slightly, and just brush his lips up against Cas’s, feel the dry skin there, rough the angel up a bit…

_What the fuck?_

Eyes widening, Dean leans away from Cas and shoves those thoughts far, far away, and lays down by himself thank you very much, and although he’s a bit apprehensive over the whole baring your soul thing, he _really_ doesn’t want to relive today. He just hopes that Cas can’t see the thought that just went through his head.

Cas gently lays two fingers on his forehead, and Dean feels his eyes closing against his will and then he’s only dreaming of darkness.

~*~*~*~

Castiel watches as Dean’s soul goes dormant. Making sure that the hunter would sleep for the next few hours at the very least, Castiel flies back to Heaven, reporting all that he learned about Alastair, Dean and the demon’s plan that he had observed. He almost hid what he had learned about Dean, but felt that it was too big a lie, and that he couldn’t keep that up while in front of Zachariah.

_We must move quickly then. Gather Anael and your garrison to attack where the demons are gathered._

Castiel flies, reaching out for Anael.

 _Anael, the location of the demon is known to me._ He sends out the location, feels Anael receive it. _The garrison is prepared, yes?_

_Yes, they are now going to the location. Fly quickly brother._

He draws his sword as he flies, and listens to her battle plans, landing and immediately going to where Anael wants him to be.

Sariel slices away at demons beside him, and he is glad to have her there, as Sariel is one of the most dependable angels in the garrison. They fight against the horde, a pile of demons attempting to overwhelm the angel beside him, mistaking her young vessel as a weakness. Sariel throws them off, and Castiel burns several away.

There are no humans nearby, and Castiel almost considers abandoning his vessel as many of his siblings have, their true forms more effective than their vesselled ones, but the risk of losing his vessel stops him. Jimmy could wander away and be killed by a demon or even by another angel. He already has very few vessels compared to some of his brothers, so he stays inside. Sariel seems to be thinking along the same lines, staying in her vessel, her blonde hair flying as she hacks and stabs.

Castiel takes wing as he sees a demon trying to escape overhead, and Sariel follows him into the air, Castiel leading when no orders are coming through from Anael. They form a barrier across the western sky, allowing no demons to come through either way, to escape or to reinforce.

Anael’s voice cuts through the vicious fighting. _Castiel, you are needed. Uriel, take the western sky._

Castiel waits until he can feel Uriel flying towards them before darting down towards the underground temple. He can feel the force of the Enochian symbols that have been painted in blood around on the walls, but they can be ignored. Anael must have disabled the main sigil.

He quickly finds where Anael, Balthazar, Hestor, Rachel, Gesael and Treviel are fighting. As he watches, a demon slices through Gesael’s form, and everyone flinches as the dying light and Grace of the angel explodes outwards, pausing the battle for a precious few seconds.

Castiel restarts it, lunging forwards and burning the demon clean away, and then launching himself at his next quarry. The demons are thick down there, in smoke form and human, and Rachel has abandoned her vessel so she can deal with the incorporeal demons. Her vessel is unconscious, and Castiel moves to protect her, batting off demons when they go for the human and killing all those who come near. Eventually he has to move on, but he would like to think that he gave the girl a better chance at surviving.

Following Anael, they all dive deeper into the temple, and Castiel is the first to run into the new set of Enochian warding. He bounces off it, and his siblings stop just in time to avoid it as Castiel curls up in a ball for a few seconds to wait out the pain. He stands as it passes, and the other angels are already throwing rocks and debris at the sigil they can see, and Castiel feels when the field fails. That is the disadvantage of drawing on your protection – normal things can disrupt it, unlike if the protection is built into the walls and foundation itself. Castiel thinks that this place did not start off as a demon stronghold. They must have just come for what is buried here.

Breaking through, the fly down levels, killing any demons they can see. Castiel can feel the battle on the surface, and feels it raging on. The one down here is no better. Treviel falls, and Castiel doesn’t know where the demons are getting the angel blades, but he _would_ find who it is and he _would_ kill them.

There is no place for emotion here, and he can feel himself reverting to his base settings, his time with Dean being undone, and he revels in the feeling of nothing, until that too fades. He is a machine – and he is completing his purpose right here, right now.

Castiel can feel Alastair, and feels the muted rage come through, for daring to trap him. He would kill this demon, for all that he did to Castiel, and for all that he did to Dean, today and five years ago.

As they reach the lower levels the demons become more powerful, and Castiel can feel as Anael calls for reinforcements. Ramiel, Westiel, Forleal, Leafeal, Haviel, Yael and Hael answer, which leaves Uriel, Sariel, Vaveal, Xaeal, Jameal, Lachliel, Iveal, Samandriel, Desiel, Omichel and Poliel on the surface. The two others in their garrison who aren’t there are on their way, but they are the only ones not here. It is up to the angels already here to finish the battle, and the garrison is going to win.

The more powerful demons have angel blades, and Castiel finds himself fighting demons that could kill him, which is not something that he has to deal with very often. He is glad that he is one of the best swordsmen they have, especially when they reach a wave of demons and Castiel feels five of his siblings fall around him.

As they wind their way through the corridors, and more of his siblings voices rise for the last time, Castiel vows that he _will not be one of them._

He kills a demon before it has the chance to stab Anael. Finally reaching a resting point, Castiel looks around. There are seven angels remaining – Castiel, Hael and Haviel the only ones left who were not in the original wave.

Calming himself, Castiel clears his head, ready for the fighting when it begins again. There is a gash on his upper arm, and Castiel breathes through the pain it is radiating. Hael is more cut up than he is, and she heals as much as she can, before she depletes too much of her Grace.

Anael has a deep slice going from the top of her leg to her ankle, and it is pouring Grace. Castiel is glad that there are no demons around, because she would have difficulty defending herself.

Rachel lends some Grace, and Castiel walks over to give her some of his as well. Shrieking out in pain, Anael grits her teeth as it slowly closes.

She collapses on the floor, Castiel orders the other angels to form a defensive perimeter around the room, and they are so far into the angelic mindset that they obey without thinking. Castiel has to keep some control in order to give orders, and Anael even more. A minute passes and she opens her eyes, and Castiel sees her Grace flare up weakly.

 _Fly out_ , he orders her. _You are in no condition to fight. I will lead without you._

Anael doesn’t look happy but she wings her way upwards, and Castiel orders the other angels forwards with him, taking point position as leader. If he falls then Rachel is set to take over, but Castiel is not dying here today.

Breaking into the basement, Haviel is stabbed, and Castiel leads the charge towards where he can see Alastair now, and cuts down all of the demons he can see in his path.

The five angels cut a swath through the demons, and then Castiel is facing off against Alastair, feeling the enormity of the demon in front of him, using every trick and skill that he had in order to just stay alive. Alastair is _fast_ , and Castiel is one of the fastest angels that are in existence.

Flying around the demon, he tries to get a fatal blow in, but Alastair is too fast, and he feels frustration welling. When he is knocked into a wall, he extracts himself, but Alastair is already gone, and so have most of the other demons in the room, barring the blackened vessels and dark smoke.

The other four angels are not severely injured, and Castiel tries to trace the demons, but they’ve all disappeared to his senses. Biting back an angry sound, he motions for the other angels to follow him to the surface.

The demons have retrieved what the angels had been after. There is a large plinth, and it is empty. The key had been taken.

All the demons have fled from above ground as well, and Castiel calls a head count. Where there had been twenty six angels in the garrison, now there are only fifteen remaining, a massive blow.

Rachel acts as his second in command, and Balthazar hers. They clean the area, obliterating any demonic traces, and taking the vessels of the angels who had left their vessels safely away. Anael is still recovering, as are many angels that had been injured. Sending them to Heaven to rest, Castiel is left with four uninjured angels, including Uriel and Samandriel.

He sends them to try and track the demons, as hopeless as that chore is. He then follows his siblings to Heaven. Making himself known to Zachariah, Castiel reports what had happened.

To his surprise, Zachariah isn’t sorrowful about the fallen angels, but instead he is angry that Castiel let the demons escape and take the piece of the key.

_We are lucky that there are any angels who escaped. There were many demons there, and many powerful ones._

_I do not care that there were many demons! You know that the key is important, and you, the leading officer at the time, let it fall into demon hands!_

Castiel lowers himself in deference, disliking it, but hiding that part of himself from Zachariah. _It is regrettable that the demons retrieved the piece, but there was nothing we could do. They already had the piece by the time we arrived._

_So your information came too late?_

Castiel feels his wings drawing in and up against his will, showing that he is intimidated and frightened by the older and more powerful angel, and he hates how they show his weakness.

 _Yes, it came too late._ Castiel had been taking care of Dean at the time, and although he had Anael gather their garrison in preparation, he had taken the time for Dean, only leaving when he knew that no more time could be wasted.

Zachariah is radiating displeasure, and he finally speaks again. _There needs to be punishment for this Castiel. You gave the information too late and you were the one leading after Anael could not continue, so you will be the one punished._

Castiel’s wings tremble against his body. _I understand, Zachariah._

And he does. But Zachariah makes sure the message is received clearly anyway.

~*~*~*~

Dean spends Christmas in DC with Sam and Jess.

He manages to convince Rufus to let him leave, mainly because there’s been no proper hunts since taking out the vampire nest in Colorado. Dealing with Alastair didn’t count.

Jess and Sam are ecstatic to have him, even though Jess only has two months left until the baby’s born. Dean insists on doing most of the cooking, shooing out Jess whenever she tries to poke her head into the kitchen.

The time away from his job gives him time to relax without looking around every corner for Cas. The angel hadn’t shown up ever since he had gained Dean’s permission to mess around with his head and the whole clusterfuck with Alastair.

Dean isn’t missing him. He’s grateful when Rufus lets him leave for Christmas. But sometimes he’ll find himself waiting for the rustle of feathers, or he’ll say something sarcastic and expect a very literal response. The angel had wormed his way into Dean’s mind, and Dean is very disgruntled to realise that he is firmly in there after such a short period of time.

What he does miss is how Cas can make him sleep without having any dreams. Since Ohio, they had gotten ten times worse, and Dean can only attribute that to seeing Alastair again. The kickback from them had gotten worse as well, and Dean would suddenly come back to himself, and realise that he’d been checking all the wards in his apartment obsessively for the last five minutes, ready to rip apart anything that moved. Pamela’s herbs aren’t working either. Dean is running out of them, and they’re just making it harder for him to wake up, trying to keep him in the dark place his dreams had become. But just for a few days, while he’s here, he’s trying to ignore all of that.

He’s wrapped up all of the many baby brochures for Jess, and he has a piece of paper for Sam saying that he can drag Dean up here if he isn’t on a case and he can clear it with Rufus for painting rooms, babysitting, whatever Sam needs with the baby on its way. Dean isn’t sure that anyone could be more nervous than he is over it.

Dean makes the food, and in his opinion it isn’t too bad, but with the quality of the ingredients and the appliances that were more hi-tech than most of what Dean owns, it would have been harder to wreck the food than cook it well.

Jess and Sam compliment him on it, and Dean smiles and eats his. It is one of the more decent meals he’s cooked, and he enjoys it, but not as much as Jess and Sam’s company.

Jess leaves for bed early, and Dean and Sam sit in the lounge room and talk, catching up on each other’s lives, random small talk that’s the norm between people who know each other extremely well. Dean’s seen Bobby, Ellen and Bill more recently than Sam has, so he tells him how they’re doing and about how Jo is extremely nervous about her course. Sam laughs in the right places, and then asks about how the angels are doing.

Dean sighs, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, or maybe he means to look beyond that and into the clouds. “It’s… weird. The angels all have different personalities, and some suck, but Anna and Cas are cool. I haven’t really interacted with Samandriel all that much, and their leader seems… business like.”

“So you’re partnered with Cas right?”

“Yeah, Cas is okay. He kind of saved me from getting killed by werewolves though, so that’s a point in his favour.”

Sam looks worried, and asks about the werewolves. Dean tells him the whole story, including the run in with Alastair, finishing with flashing Sam the brand. Sam stares at it for a minute before he says anything.

“Wow, Dean… wow. A miracle. Do you know how lucky you are?” He doesn’t bring up Alastair, but Dean can see the worry etched into his face.

“That’s what Charlie said,” Dean grumbles, pulling his shirt back on.

“Well Charlie’s right. I don’t think you appreciate what’s happening in your life right now Dean. Not many people have the chance to interact with angels. We only know they’re real because Bobby knew a hunter who saw one fighting some demons once, and when we looked at the possibility that they were real, we started finding clues everywhere. And when you joined the FBI and then they confirmed it, and then you had Bobby get the word out to the hunting community… Do you remember the summer of 06? Turmoil and unrest everywhere, two sides of those who believed and those who didn’t… It only ended when that blonde girl appeared in the middle of a gathering and said that angels were real, and proceeded to kill that demon who was hiding inside Lachlan… Crazy times, but who would have guessed that you would be working with them?”

Dean shrugs. “It’s not that different.”

Sam casts a sceptical look at him. “Except he can heal you from the brink of death and can transport you across the country in half a second.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t feel like an angel Sammy. Just like a normal dude who has appalling social skills. It’s only when he busts out some moves that I remember.”

Sam narrows his eyes at him and Dean leans back. “What?” He asks, and he can’t help the defensive tone to his voice.

Sam just shrugs. “And you were criticising me for trusting Madison,” he comments neutrally.

“Hey, that is different,” Dean tells Sam. “Cas is working with me and has proved that he’s not going to hurt anyone. Madison turned up out of nowhere and only helped us to save her own ass.”

Sam nods. “Yeah, sure.”

“Hey.” Dean can hear the innocent overlay in Sam’s voice. “It _is_ different.”

Sam looks up from where he had been staring at his hands. “I’m sure it is Dean.”

Dean scowls. Sam is _implying_ something, and he knows it. Deciding to change track, he starts to tell Sam how there have been no cases for a month, and how everyone is getting antsy.

“The SPN team in Montreal can come and handle the cases that are up north on the east coast, even if they’re Canadian. The bosses won’t let us go for some salt and burns, and the ones they don’t grab we send to Bill. But, seriously Sammy. Nothing. No cases. It’s driving us up the walls.”

“Hey, I’m sure you’ll find something. And if you don’t, then you could ask Rufus if you can go and help with the search and find division.”

Dean pauses. “That isn’t a bad idea. I’ll have to ask Rufus when we get back.”

Sam smiles. “Yeah, it should keep you occupied for a week or two until a proper case comes up.” Sam looks over at the time. “We better get to sleep, or we’ll be awake on Christmas as soon as it starts.”

“That’s not always a bad thing Sammy,” Dean says, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve had some good stuff happen to me on Christmas Eve.”

Sam shoots him a Look. “Dean, appropriate conversation only please. The baby’s old enough to have ears.”

Dean sighs. “Okay then Sam. Appropriate conversation only.”

Sam huffs out a breath of laughter. “If my kid’s swearing before she can walk, I’m blaming you.”

“She?” Dean asks, picking up on the slip.

Sam has a deer in the headlights look for about three seconds. “I wasn’t meant to tell anyone,” he grumbles.

Dean laughs. “So you know that’s a girl?”

Sam looks up at him, and a sweet little smile comes out. “Yeah, we’ve known for a few weeks.” Sam smiles wider, grinning at his brother. “I’m going to have a little girl.”

Dean can feel his own grin matching his brothers. “Yeah, you are. Have you decided on a name yet?”

Sam shakes his head. “We’re debating over names. Jess has several, and I have a few, and we’re eliminating them slowly. We still have another two months or so, she’s due at the end of February. Jess just wants it all over with, I think. She just wants her in her arms already.”

Dean holds in a grin at Sam’s wistful and adoring tone. “The time will fly. Before you know it, you’re going to have her. No use wishing it away.”

“That’s what you’ve been telling me for years Dean. I think I’ve got the message.”

“Have you? Even now, think of how long it’s been since I first told you that, and ask yourself if it feels like that much time has passed.”

There’s a pause, and Sam furrows his brow. “I never thought it would be you teaching me life lessons.”

“It’s in the job description of an older brother. I kinda have to do it. The four year gap compels me. I just have more life experience than you.”

They both sober for a moment as they think about just how much life experience Dean has.

“Anyway,” Sam continues, after a pause. “I’m going to sleep.”

Dean nods and watches as his younger brother walks up the stairs. He goes and digs Pamela’s herbs out of his bag, and lets them rest in the water of a glass for ten minutes. Drinking the liquid, he makes a face at the taste and rinses out his glass thoroughly in the sink. He doesn’t want anything in it to somehow get to Jess – who knows what it would do to her and the baby.

He walks to the room that he sleeps in when he stays here, and pulls the covers up around him to fend off the icy cold of the night. It’s much colder here than in Phoenix, and Dean can feel the bite of the chill.

Even as he shivers, the bed warms, and eventually he has a small nest of warmth, and he can feel the drug in his system calming him and putting him to sleep.

~*~*~*~

Dean wakes when he hears the door of his room open. He turns to see Sam standing there, knowing not to enter until Dean sees him and acknowledges him. Dean grunts and sits up.

“What time is it?” Dean drawls out slowly. There’s no clock in the room, one of his only hang ups about the house.

“It’s just after nine. Jess and I have been up for an hour, but we didn’t want to disturb you. You don’t usually sleep long. Or at all.” Dean can hear the questioning tone, and knew that Sam would want to know why, especially after he had told him about Alastair last night. That would mean more nightmares, not less.

He rubs a hand over his face, feeling the stubble scrape over his palm. “Yeah, Pamela gave me some stuff to help me sleep. It’s not bad, but leaves me feeling a bit groggy, and it doesn’t do anything for the dreams. Just makes it harder to wake up.”

Sam furrows his brow. “What stuff? Pills?”

Dean groans. “God Sam, no. Just some leaves that I drink every night. Some psychic stuff I suppose. I trust Pam, okay? She’s not trying to poison me or some shit like that.”

Sam is still frowning. “Hey, don’t let this get you down,” Dean chastises. “It’s Christmas.”

Sam sighs and smiles slightly. “I just get worried about you Dean.”

Dean laughs, swinging his legs out of bed and standing up, stretching his hands above his head and probably showing his stomach as he did. Sam is watching him amusedly as Dean walks over to rummage around in his bag for some clean clothes. “There’s some food out here when you’re ready,” he says as he leaves.

Dean takes his time as he shaves and showers. There’s cold pancakes and Dean helps himself to a few, pouring maple syrup over them. Not bothering with cutlery, Dean wanders into the lounge room, where Sam is sitting on the floor and Jess is laying on the couch.

Suddenly feeling a bit sheepish, Dean sits on the single chair that’s left. “Sorry for keeping you.”

Jess raises an eyebrow. “I’m just glad you’re sleeping. Even if you’re taking something to help with it.”

Dean sighs. “It’s just something from Pamela. Not a big deal.”

Jess is still regarding him with a sceptical look. Dean frowns at her slightly, and she shakes herself. “Anyway, merry Christmas!” She says, and Dean smiles. They exchange greetings and gifts. Jess looks so excited by the baby brochures that Dean thinks that she might run to her computer and start shopping right now. Sam looks at his slip of paper and then gets up and hugs Dean.

“Whoa, Sammy, it’s okay.”

Sam continues to hug him for another few seconds before releasing him. “Thanks Dean,” he says, and Dean knows that he really means it.

Sam gives Dean a record in an unmarked sleeve. When Dean slides it open there’s a pristine record inside, almost new looking. He flips it over, and stares for a moment at the Led Zeppelin logo, with the words ‘Ramble On’ written in sharpie just large enough so that you could see it.

“Sam…” Dean says, looking at the record. He owns a record player, and Sam knows that, but he had never been able to find this song before.

“I know you had a record player, but you didn’t have that song, and Adam owned it, and didn’t really want it, since it had been his mum’s, so he was happy to sell it to me.”

Dean just shakes his head, thanking whoever is listening that Sam exists.

Jess gives him a scarf and matching gloves, proudly telling him that she had knitted them herself. Dean tries them on, and is surprised by how warm they are.

“They’re also non-reflective, fireproof, waterproof and don’t conduct electricity,” she says, looking at the garments fondly.

“How did you manage that?” Dean asks, shocked. Jess does knit, he knows that, but all of the other things… How had she swung that?

Jess blushes slightly and looks down. “Sam gave me the number of a psychic named Missouri. She told me how to weave some different herbs and plants into the material, and what to say to make it work.”

“And it does work,” Sam adds. “I tried setting fire to it when she had it done, and nearly burned down our kitchen instead. If it gets any sparks on it then they just kind of fling off into your paper towel rack.”

Dean laughs at the thought of Sam and Jess frantically running around the kitchen, trying to put out a fire.

They eat a large lunch, and Sam and Jess surprise him by pulling out a pie that they had gone out and bought from their local baker, who apparently baked beautifully. After tasting the pie, Dean had no choice but to agree with the statement.

They round out the day with Dean and Sam cooking the dinner, shooing Jess out of the kitchen whenever she found a ‘task’ that she had to do in the kitchen and tried to help them.

The dinner tastes great, and they settle down in the large lounge room, and turn on a Christmas movie that’s just starting. Dean commentates it, and Jess and Sam fling popcorn at him when he says something that they don’t approve of.

Just before they go to bed after the movie ends, Dean makes everyone hot chocolate. He resolves to steal the box that they had in their kitchen, because this stuff is _divine_ , and looked like some expensive French brand or something.

Jess calls it a night early, saying that she’s tired. Sam helps her up to their room, and then comes back down to help Dean do the dishes. They talk while they work, inconsequential things made important by the time and place that they’re spoken. After the whole house it spotless – and it takes quite a while to pick up all the popcorn on the ground in the living room – Sam bids Dean good night.

“Merry Christmas Dean,” Sam says, smiling softly.

“Merry Christmas Sam,” Dean replies. Sam leaves, and Dean drops off as soon as he reaches his bed, not needing Pamela’s herbs, content and tired from the day he had just had.


	7. 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years ago, Dean was a happy, healthy FBI agent. 
> 
> Unfortunately, that couldn't last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter so far!  
> And I promise, after next chapter we will have some fluff and happiness.  
> Until then though...

_April 24, 2007_

“How many times do I have to tell you! Just because I’m into computers, it does not make me some kind of crazed person who sits in front of them all day and ignores the world! I go on dates, eat at restaurants and live my life!”

Dean’s laugh rings out across the office. “Just because you keep denying it doesn’t mean that I’ll think any different Charlie. And I have not seen you go out with anyone in over a year.”

“You’re being ridiculous. What about that blonde girl from the café?”

“She doesn’t count! What, you make out with someone and get naked with them for ten minutes and that counts as a date?”

“It was fifteen at least,” Charlie says, but she’s blushing slightly. “And we drank coffee together.”

“It was a bar café. She sat next to you while you drank, and you only realised she was there when I pointed her out.”

“Why are you picking on me? I don’t think I’ve seen Victor go out with anyone, ever.”

“As you’re the junior member of the team, it’s your job to cop all the teasing in here.”

“I have been working in this office for nearly five years now, and technically Ash is younger than me. Just because you were here a few months before me doesn’t mean that you get to make fun of me for making out with someone and getting caught by some police officers.”

Dean laughs again. “I think they were torn between wanting to watch and having to arrest you for public indecency.”

“We still had our underwear on!”

“As much as I’m sure you both want this conversation to continue, this is an office in one of the largest headquarters for the Bureau in the country that we call home.” Rufus walks into the office, and Charlie slowly sinks down into her chair.

Dean, however, is more likely to protest. “Hey, we’re just having a harmless bit of fun.”

“A harmless bit of fun that is disrupting my workplace. Winchester, you’re getting paid for a reason, now tell me that you have a job.”

Rufus is probably expecting him to bow out with no excuses, but Dean clicks on his internet tab and waits for the page to load. “Actually, I do.”

Rufus sniffs and looks over his separate internet tabs. Disappearances, several people reported missing over the last week and a crime scene with ritualistic symbols and a body carved up nicely, with the entire scene covered in a layer of sulphur.

“Looks like a demon,” Rufus acknowledges.

“Or a few of them. I think this looks like more than one demons work.”

Rufus deliberates for a second before nodding. “You go with Victor and Annie. Be ready to leave in an hour.”

Dean grins and nods. “Yes sir.”

Annie rolls her eyes and starts packing up her things when Dean tells her that they’re leaving for Helena, Montana. She grabs Victor on her way out, and they leave together, smiling over something that Dean probably doesn’t want to know about. He just hopes they aren’t planning anymore pranks; their last war got a bit out of control, and had ended with a fart bomb in Rufus’ office. No matter how many times Dean had told him it had ended up there accidently, and no one was quite sure how it had even gotten there in the first place, Rufus had not been impressed, and had ordered a cease fire, which everyone had grudgingly obeyed.

Dean packs up all his things, and waves goodbye to Charlie. Who knew where Ash was. The youngest man on the team is one of the FBI’s most valued agents, despite the fact that he’s not quite 22. He’s probably in some other unit, helping them save the world from the crisis that they have going at the moment. While Dean might work in one of the most underrated units, the SPN unit helped people, unlike some other units he could name.

Even though he didn’t get as much respect, and that nearly the entire building have no idea what he does, Dean is content with his job. He thinks that it would just make things a lot harder if the general populace knew that all things hairy, blood thirsty and in the night are real.

It only takes three days to get up to Montana, and by the time they’re there, three more people have been reported missing, and there’s been another ritualistic murder. Annie and Victor get on the case immediately, interviewing witnesses while Dean checks out one of the murder sites.

He looks over the signs and symbols, recognising some of them as pretty heavy spell work. He calls up Victor, and listens as the other man recounts what they’ve found. One of the witnesses swears that she saw black smoke, and the other claims he still has the smell of rotting eggs stuck in his nose. Victor says that he’s sure this is a demon case now.

“And you weren’t sure before?” Dean says, smiling and leaning up against a wall. He had made sure that there hadn’t been any blood there before he leant, as dry cleaning for suits this expensive is ridiculously priced.

“You should be sure before you jump to conclusions. It’s one of your flaws, Dean.”

“Aw, come on, I don’t have any flaws.”

“How much time do you have, I can start listing them.”

Dean laughs, and one of the police officers standing on the other side of the room looks at him funnily. Dean supposes that not many people laugh like that at scenes like this.

“Did the vic’s family give you anything?”

“These people are all squeaky clean. I don’t think any of them even pirate music.”

“Damn. So no clues at all?”

“None. Are the symbols legitimate?”

“Oh yeah. There is some heavy duty stuff here Vic. I don’t know what they’re trying to do, but we should stop it before they blow up half of Montana. I’m just heading over to the other crime scene. If you’re done there, do you want to meet me?”

There’s a brief pause as Victor probably talks to Annie. “We’ll go by tomorrow. It’s nearly eleven Dean, and we want the police on our side, not annoyed at us because the Feds made them miss out on their sleep. Come back to the motel.”

Dean looks around, ready to protest, but notes how the officers are either standing too still or are shifting and looking around, like they can’t wait to get out of here.

“Fine. I’ll see you in twenty.”

Dean hangs up and expresses his gratitude to the officer who had unlocked the scene and let him on, telling her that his companions would be at the other scene at nine o’clock the next morning. She nods and Dean leaves, listening to her round up the junior officers, getting them ready to pack up the scene and then go home.

Dean pulls into the motel parking lot fifteen minutes later, and walks into the room he’s sharing with Victor. Victor is there, studying the book in front of him.

“Found anything?” Dean asks.

Victor shakes his head and turns the page over. Dean boots up his laptop and while he waits for the computer to load, he gets the paper and starts looking over it.

“There’s an Indian place on the main street that I saw. You wanna go there for dinner?”

“That sounds good. Go and ask Annie if she wants that.”

Dean walks out of the room and knocks lightly on Annie’s door. “Annie? It’s Dean.”

“Wait a moment,” Annie calls from inside. Dean stands in the hallway for a lot longer than a moment, but Annie eventually she opens the door, hair still wet from having a shower.

“What’s up?”

“Do you want Indian for dinner?”

“Grab me some rice and I’m game,” Annie says. “Get me some lamb curry too.”

Dean nods and raises an eyebrow when she closes the door.

He pops his head back into their room on the way out. “Annie says she’s fine for it. What do you want?”

“Chicken curry, and get a naan, they’re great.”

“Okay.”

Dean thinks it’s a miracle that the place is still open, but the fact that it’s Friday night might have something to do with it. He picks up what Annie and Victor ordered and gets a beef curry for himself.

The food makes the Impala smell delicious, and Dean has to ignore the temptation to simply pull over and start eating. It smells divine.

Annie approves the food when he knocks on her door, and she comes with him to Victor and Dean’s room to eat it. Victor hmms happily as he eats, and Dean sighs contentedly around the food in his mouth. He had picked a good place.

After the food is gone they gather around to discuss what they had found that day. Dean had taken some photos of the crime scene, and Annie and Victor study them while Dean cleans up all the used boxes.

“You’re right, these runes are dark spell work for sure.” Victor frowns as he studies the pictures.

“Yeah, I thought a summoning ritual maybe? They’re trying to get another demon out of Hell?”

“It’d have to be a damn powerful demon to warrant this type of summoning. One of the leaders, I’m guessing.”

Victor is the best rune reader in the SPN unit, so they let him study the photos for another minute. Eventually he sits back.

“From what I can tell it is a summoning, and a damn powerful one too. They have to sacrifice three Heaven-ward bound souls and drag them down to Hell as fuel for the demon to get up here.”

“And there have been two killings already.”

“They have to be a week apart for this particular summoning, so we have five more days to stop the next one. It has to be in this town, since there’s a powerful overlap of ley lines here, which makes the boundaries between worlds smaller and easier to cross. I think I know what all of them mean, except for this one,” he points to a large rune near the middle of the floor. “But if I had to guess I’d say it was the name of the demon that they’re trying to summon. I don’t read demonic, but I know the first letter. It’s an A.”

Dean and Annie nod. “Does it have to be this week?”

“From what I can tell, yes. Something about the moon and sun being in balance.”

“And how long until this comes around again?” Dean asks, looking at the picture.

Victor shrugs. “Probably in another ten years or so. Not too long to wait for them.”

“But we can still put it off ten years if we stop this last ritual.”

“Yes. If we can stop it, or even disrupt it, then they won’t be able to complete it properly and they’d need to wait another week, but which time the sun and moon will be out of balance.”

“Okay then,” Annie says. “The mission here seems clear – stop this last ritual from happening. Now that we know what we’re looking for, we can search for it more efficiently. Until then, I’m going to bed.”

Victor and Dean say their good nights, and the red haired lady leaves.

“I’m going to bed as well,” Dean tells Victor, who nods.

“I’ll see if I can get you up in the morning, since you always want to sleep in.”

“Hey, I just appreciate a good rest.”

Victor rolls his eyes. Dean brushes his teeth and gets ready to go to sleep, and in twenty minutes he’s dropped off to the sound of Victor turning pages.

~*~*~*~

_April 28, 2007_

“Dean.”

Dean grunts and buries himself under the covers.

“Dean. Get up.”

Dean doesn’t move.

“Dean, don’t make me pour water over your head. I’ve done it before, and I’m sure I’ll do it again.”

“Whaa?” Dean slurs as he sits up, wincing at the glaring sunshine that’s pouring through the open window. Victor is sitting in the same spot where he had been last night, and that makes it seem like he hasn’t moved in eight hours.

Victor raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s eight o’clock, and you told those police officers you would be at the crime scene at nine. You gonna move, or is it just going to be Annie and I who are showing up?”

Dean scowls and stands, yawning and stretching at the same time.

Victor is already impeccable, but it takes half an hour for Dean to get ready, and he’s pretty proud of that time.

All three agents drive to the last crime site and start looking for clues as soon as they’re let onto the scene. Annie keeps sneezing because she’s allergic to sulphur.

“I hate going on the demon raids,” she mutters as Dean walks past her, and he can’t blame her. If he was allergic to sulphur he’d be throwing a fit every time as well.

“So what do you think?” Dean asks, looking around to make sure that there aren’t any police near them so they can talk freely.

Annie shrugs. Demons aren’t her area of expertise. She’s more into ghosts, spirits and poltergeists.

Victor purses his mouth. “I’m going to have to look at a map to see if geography factors into it somehow. Dean, you should go and talk to the witnesses.” Annie sneezes again. “And take Annie with you.”

For the next four days, they don’t find anything. No sign of demon activity, no more disappearances, and nothing suspicious happens in the town. Dean would be happy, but he knows that something worse is going to happen, and he’s beginning to feel a cold coil of dread in his gut, like a warning from the future.

_Be careful. You may not like what you find around the corner if you go looking._

But Dean couldn’t stop himself from looking anyway, even though he knows something is coming. He can feel it approaching, like a storm ready to rip his life apart, coming closer every second.

~*~*~*~

_May 3, 2007_

Dean is jittery. He thinks that he can feel shivers running up and down his spine and over his skin. Annie and Victor both look tired, since they hadn’t gotten much sleep since they’d arrived.

As soon as the moon rises today, the final ceremony would begin. Victor had narrowed down the location to either one of two areas. Annie and Victor are sitting outside a warehouse, and Dean is sitting in the middle of a graveyard.

He doesn’t know which location the demons will choose. The graveyard has all the spiritual energy in it, but doing the final ceremony in the warehouse would just make it so cliché… Dean knows the demons love that. Plus, if they’d misread the signs, then it could be happening at neither of the places they were guarding. Dean has his phone open, ready to call Annie if he sees something. Even if he doesn’t say anything, they know to come if they get a call from him. He knows to go to them if he gets a call from them.

With twenty minutes until the moon rises, Dean is expecting the action to start anytime. He thinks that there’s probably some prep involved before they can start, so when no one shows for another ten minutes he begins to get anxious.

His phone rings. Snatching it up, he starts the Impala.

“Are they over with you?”

“No, but we see activity at the old mine. You know the place.” Annie’s voice is strained, and Dean can hear the rumble of the car in the background. Victor is probably driving towards the mine.

“I’m closer than you two are.”

“I know. Wait for us when you get there.”

Dean snorts. Fat chance of that happening.

He can see the top of the moon by the time he pulls up to the mine. Swearing to himself, he grabs everything he’ll need out of the trunk, including holy water, and a kilo bag of salt. Demons are always hard – with no way to kill them, he had to get them disorientated long enough to shout the exorcism at them.

He looks at the flashlight in his hand and regretfully pockets it. The demons don’t need any warning that he’s there.

He creeps through the tunnel leading down to the depths of the mine, listening for any sounds or movement that could be made by a demon. He tries to limit the sounds he’s making as he moves down the corridor as it gets steeper and steeper, angling down into the earth.

He comes to a split in the path and halts for a moment, looking at his two choices. Just as he’s about to choose the right path, there’s a rise of chanting, and he feels a wash of magic from the left. It leaves a tacky feeling sticking to his skin, and he shudders before turning down the left path. Victor and Annie would have no problem choosing the correct path if that keeps up.

He walks down the corridor, ignoring the smaller passages that branched off the main channel. The magic is coming from the main tunnel, and it’s that, and the chanting that’s becoming louder, that he follows.

The tunnel continues on for longer than Dean would expect it to. He’s beginning to think that he won’t get there in time, and that the demon would be summoned because he couldn’t get to the end of a tunnel quickly enough.

The roof begins to rise as the smell of sulphur becomes more apparent. Dean slows and begins to tread more carefully. There’s a corner up ahead, and he guesses from the loud chanting that it opens out into a cavern.

He peers around the side of the corner, just enough so that he can see what’s happening.

There’s a disembowelled woman lying in the centre of the cavern. Her blood is pooled around her, and Dean is sure that there is hardly any left in her body. There are two demons standing on the opposite side of the chamber, and they are the ones who are chanting, the words unnaturally loud.

There’s a dark haired woman in the centre of the room that Dean doesn’t recognise. She’s chanting as well, a smaller chant meant to go unnoticed in the face of the louder one echoing throughout the mine. Dean immediately focuses on her as his target.

He slips out his knife and lets holy water cover it before dusting salt over it. It won’t kill, of course, but it would hurt, and Dean thinks that to stop this all he has to do is stop one demon from chanting.

“Dean.” The whispered word sends him spinning around to see Annie and Victor standing there. Annie looks annoyed that he didn’t wait for them while Victor looks concerned about the chanting that’s going on in the room in front of them.

“Have you done anything yet?”

“Was about to, but then you two finally showed.”

They ignore his jab. “Okay, I think that if we delay them, or stop them from chanting, it’ll stop the ritual. We just have to be careful, because if we do stop them –”

“They’re going to be pissed.” Annie finishes Victor’s sentence.

“Do you two have salt and holy water?” They look at him, and Dean regrets asking the question. “Just checking.”

“As soon as we’re sure it’s over, we run for it, okay?”

“It’s a long tunnel. Make sure everyone’s out, and then just sprint up there. Whoever gets there first start the car so we can just get out of here. Got it?”

Annie and Victor nod, and Dean turns around to plan which demon he’s going to stab first.

Later Dean will regret that conversation. He’ll wonder what would have happened if he had just stormed over and stabbed one of the demons with his salt and holy water knife. If they had all been twenty seconds faster. If he had turned his flashlight on and raced down the tunnel.

But in the end ifs and maybes and what ifs are all speculation. He can think about what could have been and what would have been for the rest of his life, but that fact is that just as he is about to charge out there, the demons stop chanting.

Dean pauses for a second, looking out over the cavern. Victor and Annie follow his lead, and don’t move, watching the demons for their next move.

Their next move seems to be the black haired female demon rounding on them and calling out across the space that separates them. “I know you’re there Dean. You can come out.”

Dean purses his mouth but walks out. Annie and Victor stay hidden.

“And your two friends,” the demon drawls. There’s almost something familiar about it. Victor and Annie round the corner slowly. The other two demons don’t move, but they track Dean’s companions with their eyes.

“Who are you?” Dean asks.

The demon pouts. “Don’t recognise me Dean-o? I’m sad, I thought I was such an unforgettable face.” She pauses. “Oh, that’s right, I’m just borrowing this one for a time. The other one was fine, until you poured all that holy water on me the last time we met. Got all in my crevasses, and that’s not something you want to put up with.”

“Meg,” Dean spits out, suddenly certain. The demon smiles too widely, baring her teeth.

“Oh, you know me, how sweet. It’s nearly as sweet as telling you that you’re too late. We’ve finished our summoning, haven’t we boys?” She tilts her head back to look at the other two demons, and Dean wants to ram his blade through her throat. “So you’re too late to save all those people. Uh oh,” she taunts, and Dean narrows his eyes.

“Well I don’t see any big ass demon around here, so I’m gonna send you back to Hell.”

Meg laughs suddenly. “I was right,” she says gleefully. “You _are_ the one. You _are_ the one we’re going to need. So much fire, ready to be stamped out, so we can use the embers as we will.”

Annie and Victor are silent, letting Dean handle Meg, since they know that he has more experience with her than they do. They’re covering his back, and Dean tries not to show how Meg’s words are unsettling him.

“It doesn’t matter what you do Dean,” she continues. “We’re going to win, and not even the feathery bitches upstairs can stop us.”

Dean’s about to reply when all three demons vanish.

Dean grits his teeth. “Son of a _bitch_.” He looks around at the scene before he shakes his head. “Call the local police and tell them about this. Say we thought that we knew where the next one was going to happen and we came here, but were too late and found it this way. And make sure you tell him that there won’ be any more murders.” Dean looks at the woman on the ground for a second before turning his back on her.

Annie nods and takes out her phone, but scowls at it. “There’s no reception down here,” she explains. Victor nods and Dean sighs, before taking one last look at where Meg had been standing. It’s empty, but he didn’t expect anything else.

Annie makes the call while Dean calls Rufus to tell him the news. He doesn’t want to, but someone has to do it, and as leader of the team he thinks it’s his duty to report.

Rufus is silent for a few seconds after Dean finishes talking, relaying all that had happened over the last few days.

“Well, it seems like there was nothing you could do. As long as you clean everything up and make sure no one gets wind of what is actually happening, it’s fine. We’ll deal with the demon that Meg released when you get back.”

Dean ends the phone call just as the other police are arriving. They’re sceptical when Dean tells them that there will not be any more murders, but they all want to believe that the rest of their town is safe, and with the official looking FBI telling them that, it doesn’t take much until they accept it. They look a lot less happy when Dean tells them about the dead woman at the end of the mine shaft.

Even though the summoning is over, and technically the danger is as well, the strange feeling that Dean has had for the last few days lingers. He ignores t as best he can. _Just after job jitters_ , he tells himself, and tries to believe it.

They finally leave the town five days later, with all loose ends tied up, all evidence gathered, and all three agents ready to be home again.

Victor and Annie return the car that they had borrowed, and they all pile into the Impala, ready to leave. However, just as they get on the highway and Dean is ready to let loose and get there in two days instead of three, he sees stopped cars and red tail lights in the distance. He sighs to himself, slowing the Impala and approaching the traffic. Why on earth is there traffic anyway? There must be an accident, because nothing happens around the beginning of May. It’s ridiculously hot, and he just wants to kick his heels up in his apartment and have a cold beer. Is that too much to ask?

When he flips on the radio the presenters are talking about the accident that he’s seeing for himself, a crash that involves nine cars and a truck. Apparently the traffic is horrendous, and Annie and Victor start complaining to each other in the backseat, debating if it was worth getting off the highway to find a smaller and less used road to travel on.

It doesn’t look like they’re going anywhere for a while, even if they decide to get off on a smaller road. Dean turns off the Impala’s engine when he rolls to a stop behind a white ute, trying to peer around the cars in front to see if he can see the crash. He can’t.

Dean opens his door and stretches slightly, looking down to see if there is _any_ movement at all, but the only thing he can see was cars. He frowns. Usually people would be getting out of the cars, looking at the crash, but there aren’t any. It’s like they’re just all sitting in their cars, waiting for something…

He feels the dark feeling rise up in him, foreboding suddenly crashing over him. Something isn’t right here.

Victor and Annie slide out of the car behind him, and Dean has just enough time to hear Annie shout a warning before black smoke fills his vision and he loses consciousness.

~*~*~*~

He can’t tell how long he’s been out.

He tries to blink, to breathe, to _move_ , anything at all, but he can’t.

Eventually he realises that there is another presence in his head, and that’s when he starts to struggle, throwing himself around in his head, trying to escape.

The other presence laughs at his efforts.

_There, there Dean. Don’t struggle, you’ll only tire yourself out._

Dean hears the voice, but he fights anyway, kicking and screaming while it laughs and laughs and laughs.

~*~*~*~

_June 11, 2007_

Charlie’s seen panic. She’s seen anxiety, she’s seen fear. But the emotion that is currently filling Sam’s eyes is something that she can’t begin to comprehend, let alone put into words.

It’s a mix of animal terror and fright, overlaying a deep anger. She wouldn’t want to be there when Sam finds out where his brother is, because she doesn’t know what he would do, just that she is scared of it. Sam would do anything right now for his brother, including abandoning his job with no notice and his fiancé without a concrete explanation. One of the most worrying things is about the look in Sam’s eyes is that it’s been there ever since Sam arrived in Phoenix.

Sam had immediately called every contact he had, and Bobby, Ellen and Bill are all on research duty. As far as Charlie knows, he hasn’t slept since he had got to Phoenix, which had been five weeks ago.

She’s watching him now. Sam has his back hunched, and he’s reading through a tome that’s in Latin with a focus that meant that he doesn’t miss anything, but it doesn’t take him too long to finish it either. Five weeks after Dean had gone missing, and no demons had been sighted since. Sam hadn’t stopped looking for his brother in all that time, and Charlie doesn’t think that he will stop until Dean has been found.

She heats up some leftover pasta she had bought from her house, and put it next to Sam’s elbow. There’s typing from the front desk as Garth completes extra work. Rufus had picked him from a line-up of hunters that had applied for Dean’s job, and Rufus wanted him trained in six months, never mind that a full course for the SPN unit usually takes a year and a half. Garth hadn’t known Dean, and he didn’t understand why everyone is devoting all their efforts to finding him. Garth is a good enough guy, if a bit dopey, but he doesn’t understand the type of person Dean is, and how he inspires you just by existing… Charlie had been in a bad place when she had got here a few years ago, and Dean had helped her out of that. She intended to repay him for as long as she could, and helping to find him is just something that she thinks counts towards that.

But she doesn’t think he would want any of them digging their own graves to find him, especially his little brother. Dean had told them all how proud he is of Sam almost every week, and he glowed when the conversation turned to his brother.

Charlie is hoping that Dean is dead. It sounds horrible, but the demons wanted him personally, she’s certain of that, and if they didn’t want him dead, then they had something worse planned. She hates to think it, but she doesn’t want him to go through whatever they would have planned for him if they had kept him alive.

She sits at her desk and rubs her forehead before turning her computer on. She has every search she can think of up, to try and track demons, sightings of demons, anything demon related, including strange weather patterns. All she had received was nothing. Nothing over five weeks. And it isn’t just the USA that she’s tracking. Anywhere that has information that she can get her hands on, she had set up programs for there as well. The only places where she doesn’t have specific information from are several African and Middle Eastern countries, and she can still keep track of their weather with satellites that go overhead.

She thinks that it’s amazing, how every demon everywhere had suddenly disappeared, probably going back to Hell for a bit, kicking up their shoes and taking a break.

She checks her searches, but the same answer as always comes back. No results.

Charlie looks at the time, winces when she sees it’s after one, and then at Sam, who hasn’t touched the food that she put next to him. _It’s too late for this,_ she thinks, and it isn’t just about the time. She’s pretty sure that it’s too late for Dean as well.

~*~*~*~

Dean had learned a lot since he had started under Alastair’s tutelage.

At first he had resisted. The sight of blood and his own hands making the blood, and the screams of the people who were giving the blood, still alive… He didn’t want any part of it.

But then Alastair had started praising him. Praising him when he sat passively, not trying to fight against what was happening. Praising him when he had a thought about what to do next, fleeting and quickly shoved out of his mind but still there.

If he had a thought about what to do next, then Alastair would always do it.

Alastair told him that he held out longer than most. Three months of denial and fighting and struggling and kicking before he had just given up. It had been the longest three months of Dean’s entire life. Alastair had brought in a new subject each day, and had shown Dean how he could take them apart with his hands and the tools that Alastair brought, how he could keep them alive with half their skin and organs gone.

Dean had been awake every second of it.

Alastair hadn’t possessed him the entire time. Sometimes he would leave, just for an hour or two, and it would give Dean a chance to recoup, a chance to plan his strategy and what he would do when the powerful demon came back. He still isn’t sure what Alastair wants from him, just that he is needed to find something in the future. What that something is, he couldn’t say.

He had gleaned some knowledge from Alastair. The location of some of Lucifer’s Crypts, the fact that there was a demon bomb that could kill demons, the existence of a demon ‘tablet,’ whatever that was, but he couldn’t figure out what Alastair needed him for. The demon just said that it was important. Repeated it over and over and over in his head.

He also learned more about torture from plumbing the demon’s mind, but he was determined to find something useful. He learned about other demons and their techniques, how they worked and how Alastair looked down on their work as inferior. He learned about a knife that could kill demons and where it was located, even though the demon didn’t want him to know that.

Dean suffered for finding out that tidbit of information.

And sometimes Alastair would come in in another host. Dean didn’t like those times, when Alastair inflicted more scars on his mind, digging up old memories and things that he had tried to forget but that the demon had found and taken advantage of, leaving him tired and bruised and bleeding and broken.

Alastair did other things as well. He made the faces of the people he tortured look like Sam or Charlie or Victor. Sometimes they were Ellen or Jo or Jess. Dean tried telling himself that is wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, but Alastair would laugh and tell him that it _is_ real and that this _is_ happening.

Dean hated what Alastair did to people while he was inside him, making Dean watch, making him like it, making him torture people with his own hands.

Until he did like it. Until he asked questions and tried to please Alastair as much as he could and enjoyed the feeling of blood running over his hands, of ripping pieces of meat out of people and killing them slowly.

Alastair whispers in his mind, _Yes, good. Now you need to remember Dean. If you don’t come when I call, I’ll do this to your brother._ Alastair shows him a picture, and even in his new state of liking blood, Dean shudders away from the pulpy mess, wondering if that had ever been a person. He can tell that they’re still alive, and the new part of him admires the artistry that went into the person.

 _So come when I call Dean._ And with that Alastair leaves, and Dean falls, completely on his own for the first time in what felt like decades.

~*~*~*~

_September 18, 2007_

Charlie knows something is going to be different as soon as she wakes up.

She brushes her teeth, showers and gets ready for work. She somehow knows that today will be different. The bandage that covers her tattoo can come off today, and she takes a moment to study the star in a circle of flame that protects her from demons that sits on her upper back between her shoulder blades. Sam had found it and what it does a month ago, and everyone had promptly gotten it tattooed somewhere on their bodies. She hopes that it does work, and the ink protects them from possession.

The feeling niggles at the back of her mind for the next few hours, as she gets into work and checks her computers, expecting there to be nothing, like usual. Instead, two different odd weather patterns pop up, and five new disappearances that happened in the same town over the last two days start blinking their alarm. Charlie looks at the information, and knows that she was right. Something had changed.

Sam is at Dean’s apartment, going through his books, trying to find a way to summon a demon so he could interrogate it. Charlie thinks that he won’t need to do that anymore. Suddenly her four month certainty that Dean had to be dead lifts. She has this feeling, like she would see him again today.

Charlie shows the information to Ash, who immediately starts typing away at his own computer.

She leaves and drives to Pamela and Missouri’s house on the outskirts of town. She’s about to knock when the door opens, and the short figure of Missouri fills the doorframe.

“Do you feel it?” She asks, and Missouri nods.

“Something is going to happen today. The spirit world is abuzz.”

“There’s been weird weather and disappearances all over the world again. I think the demons are back.”

Missouri nods. “That would do it. Come and have some tea.”

So Charlie sits with Missouri and waits for the inevitable phone call, drinking the herbal tea but unable to keep her eyes away from the phone sitting in front of her. Missouri talks to her, keeping her occupied until a few hours later, she nods at the phone.

“You should pick that up dearie.”

The phone starts buzzing, and Charlie prepares herself for the worst.

“Charlie Bradbury.”

“Charlie he’s back! Dean’s back! Some truck screeched up, dumped him on our front steps and took off. I’m running the footage to try and see what truck it was, but I’m pretty sure that they’ll abandon those hosts if they’re demons. But he’s sleeping, or knocked out, and we can’t get him to wake up.” Ash’s voice is excited and on edge, and Charlie has already grabbed her keys.

“I’ll be right there, did you call an ambulance?”

“Yes, Garth did, and he’s on his way to Mayo now.”

Charlie breathes out softly. Mayo Clinic is arguably the best in the state. “Okay. I’ll be there as soon as possible.” She hangs up and looks at Missouri. The older woman smiles, but it looks forced, and Charlie can see the worry lines that have etched themselves onto the corners of her eyes.

“Pamela is on her way to the clinic.” Missouri doesn’t say how she knows, or even how Pamela knows, but Charlie is going to put that down to psychic stuff that she doesn’t understand. “You should leave now, or you’ll get stuck behind that car that’s going to crash and cause a city wide traffic jam.”

That’s more than enough to spur Charlie on, and she hurries through the city, and takes a corner just in time to hear a crash behind her. When she looks up to her rear-view mirror, there’s a four car crash, and already traffic is building up behind them. She huffs to herself, and speeds slightly to the hospital.

She gets a car park, and asks at the front desk for Dean. The lady there won’t tell her where he is, and she spends ten minutes arguing with her, trying to get her to give up Dean’s location. She’s almost frustrated enough to whip out her badge and demand to be taken to his room when Rufus, Ash, Annie, Sam and Victor walk in.

Rufus talks to the lady at the front desk, and within a minute she’s leading them up to the third floor. Charlie waits outside the room, annoyed that only two people can be in there at the same time, but eventually she gets to go in when Rufus comes out.

There are two doctors inside taking Dean’s vitals, and Charlie has the feeling that if they weren’t federal agents then they wouldn’t even be on this floor, let alone in this room. They’re talking to each other in the doctor jargon that you can only just not understand, speaking as if Charlie and Sam aren’t in the room.

Dean looks deathly pale, and Charlie bites her lip. She can’t see any external wounds, and the heart monitor beside the bed is recording even beeps, but it isn’t the physical state she is really worried about. It’s the mental.

They take Dean out for a full examination, and return him to the room an hour later. Charlie doesn’t read the report or listen to what the doctors are telling Rufus and Sam. They’re just listening with very still faces, and Charlie blocks that out to focus on Dean. He’s still pale, and she doesn’t want to know what they did to him.

They take turns sitting with him. Sam is always in there, except when he needs to go to the bathroom. He even gets Charlie to fetch some food for him when he gets hungry.

Pamela somehow wriggles her way into Dean’s room. She asks Sam if he would mind her checking if Dean is still there, or if they have a body without a soul on their hands. Sam had thrown her out of the room, but she came back in the next day and Sam hadn’t complained.

Victor and Rufus are also there while Pamela is. They all watch her place her hand on Dean’s forehead and smile fleetingly at Sam. Then she closes her eyes and her brow furrows.

She sits like that for a few minutes, before her breathing picks up. Rufus stands and moves to her, ready to either yank her away or catch her if she falls.

Suddenly she throws her head back and screams, and it’s not a quiet or half-hearted scream either. It’s a full throttle scream of pain, and she falls away from Dean, fire burning from her eyes.

Charlie stays with Dean, who doesn’t twitch at anything that’s happening around him, while Victor and Sam take her to the emergency ward under the supervision of the three nurses who came at the scream.

Rufus comes back an hour later and tells her that Pamela is in emergency care, and that they were trying to save her life, but her eyes had been completely burned from her skull.

Charlie doesn’t know what this means for Dean, but it must mean that something is inside him, so she stays hopeful. They’ve already tested him with holy water, salt, iron and silver. Sam’s stay by Dean’s bed gets longer, and Charlie watches as grief starts to devour him, and she observes the way that his eyes start to go dull and blank. A second later, she wonders if she looks any different.

~*~*~*~

_September 24, 2007_

Six days pass before Dean wakes up.

Charlie is in the room, and Sam has just left. There isn’t any jerking or gasping, but when Charlie looks up at Dean his eyes are open slightly, and he’s watching her warily.

“Dean?” Charlie asks quietly. Dean can’t speak around the tube in his mouth, but he nods slightly. “You okay?”

Dean shakes his head and Charlie isn’t exactly surprised. “You’re going to be okay,” she tells him. Dean doesn’t move this time, but Charlie thinks he’s looking at her sceptically.

When Sam comes back in Dean has fallen asleep again. She tells him that Dean woke up, and a wave of relief passes over his face.

“I haven’t told anyone else yet. Thought it best that someone stay with him.” They’ve set up an unofficial ring of protectors. Charlie, Victor, Annie, Ash or Rufus were always in the room with Dean. Garth hadn’t met Dean before this, and it wasn’t aimed as an insult to him, but he had a way of making situations go haywire and somehow being the only one surviving them. They didn’t need that with an unconscious Dean in the room. They didn’t count Sam because half the time he couldn’t pay attention because he was sleep deprived, and the other half he was too worried to think about what threats could come for Dean.

Charlie personally thought that Dean was safe. After all, the demons had dumped him on their doorstep. It probably meant they were done with him.

She switches places with Ash reluctantly, but he tells her to go home and have some sleep.

Four days later, Dean has woken up in everyone’s presence, so they gather at the office to share their stories of what had happened when he had looked at them for the first time.

Charlie told about how he had seemed calm, and the answer to her questions. Victor told them how Dean had woken up and Sam had been there, and they had shared a brotherly reunion that lasted until Sam asked where Dean had been and what had happened to him. Annie recounted how Dean had woken up and had started crying, but hadn’t said anything. Ash told them how Dean had been twitching, and he thought that he had been dreaming, so he tried to wake him. He had received a broken nose as gratitude. It is wrapped now, and Ash looks slightly ridiculous with a bandage around his purple and red blotched nose. Rufus told them how Dean had woken, and how he had looked around the room rapidly and fearfully, before watching Sam and Rufus suspiciously and hadn’t said anything.

Sam had told him about the anti-possession tattoos, and that had finally received a response. Dean had asked about them, and Sam had shown him his. Dean had nodded and asked for one in the same spot before falling asleep.

Sam had counted that as a win, and had been happy for the rest of the day.

Charlie had tried to get Dean to talk once more, but after Dean had told her that he wasn’t going to talk, she had shrugged and said okay. The relief in Dean’s eyes made her feel bad, and she started recounting all that had happened in the four months that he had been gone. He raised an eyebrow at Garth and her stories of him, and shook his head when she told him about Sam and how he had never stopped looking for him. She told him about her computer programs and how she had nearly been ready to smash her computers by the end because they were giving her no answers.

Dean had cracked a smile at that, and she had rejoiced internally, because she had been afraid that her Dean was gone forever.

Pamela is still in the hospital, and when Charlie tells Dean about her his eyes widen.

“Pamela did _what_?” He exclaims.

Charlie shrugs. “She wanted to know if you were still there, or if you were,” she waves her hand around vaguely. “Gone.”

“Don’t they have machines for that sort of thing?”

“Yes, but Pamela wanted to check, and Sam wasn’t being discouraging.”

Dean shakes his head slowly. “And you say her eyes were burned out?”

Charlie nods. Dean bites his lips before looking away.

“When can I get out of here?”

“Doctor said by the end of next week, if you keep improving and he’s sure you’re okay. And,” she continues when he opens his mouth. “There are five agents in this building who have your well-being at the top of their priority list. You’re not getting out of here until then.”

Dean agreed to stay in the hospital without trying to escape if he got to see Pamela. Charlie warned him that she might not be in any condition to have visitors, and he accepted that. But the doctor who is looking after her told Charlie that she could accompany Dean to visit the other patient, as long as they weren’t loud.

Dean leans up against Charlie as they walk to the wing where Pamela is resting. It’s extremely quiet, and Charlie finds herself trying to muffle her footsteps. Dean seems to not feel the atmosphere, and his footsteps echo loudly through the halls as they walk down them.

The reach Pamela’s room, and Charlie pushes open the door. Pamela is lying in the bed in the middle of the room, with an IV tube in and a machine next to her beeping with every beat of her heat. There’s a swath of white bandages wrapped around her head that’s covering her eyes.

“Dean?” Pamela’s voice is scratchy, and Charlie helps Dean to sit in the chair next to her.

“Hey Pam.”

“I could feel you coming down the hall, but I didn’t need extra senses to hear your boots. Could you stomp any louder?”

Dean chuckles lowly. “You shouldn’t have done that Pam. Dumb thing.”

Pamela tilts her head so it’s facing Dean. “I had to check if you were still there.”

“You should have turned back when I told you to.”

Pamela lets out a breath. “Maybe, but you know that I’m not exactly one to take orders.”

“Well you should have listened this one time.”

Pamela reaches a hand up to run it through her hair and doesn’t respond.

“So…” Dean trails off. “Did you see anything?”

Charlie blinks as she realises that they’ve been ignoring one of their primary sources of information. Pamela had looked _inside_ Dean’s head, and they’re just treating her like she had been badly injured. They’re in a supernatural situation, so they should consider supernatural resources.

Cursing herself internally, Charlie listens to their conversation, not contributing anything. She thinks that Dean’s forgotten that she’s standing there. He’s been fractious, not that she can blame him, but she can also see how he is trying to piece himself together after his ordeal. Everyone trying to pry his secrets out of him is not helping. So she has decided that if he needs space, she can give him space. Try to help him get things back to normal. If there even is a normal after what he went through.

Charlie doesn’t know any details, and she doesn’t want any details, but she has a feeling that they’re going to come out sooner or later, and it would probably be best for Dean if they came out sooner. She doesn’t think it’s healthy to have something like that bottled up inside you, but Dean isn’t one to talk about his feelings.

“I saw more than I wanted to, let’s just leave it at that.” Pamela pauses, and Charlie thinks that if she still had eyes she might be looking Dean over. “How you’re even standing I have no idea.”

“I’m tough, I can handle it.”

Pamela doesn’t reply, and that more than anything makes Charlie shift as the other woman’s doubt fills the room. She doesn’t have to say anything, and she has Dean glowering at her.

“Get that look off your face,” she rebukes him. “I’m serious Dean,” she continues, quieter. “I saw some of what was going on there…” She trails off, and Charlie doesn’t know what else she can say. It’s Dean turn to make the silence in the room awkward.

“I understand,” Pamela says. “Not as well as you do, but more than these others. I know what you went through, and I’ not going to tell them anything, trust me. You don’t need them to know before you’re ready to know yourself, and for you to accept what happened to you. To talk about it before you are ready to would be very, very bad. I can feel that Charlie has already made the conviction to not talk to you or press you for anything you’re not comfortable sharing. Keep her close, she’s a good person.”

“You don’t need to tell me Charlie’s a good person,” Dean mutters. “I already know that.”

“I’m just saying that you can trust her. You’re trust and faith have just been broken to the largest extent that they could have been broken Dean. You don’t know how to trust anymore. You’re going to have to relearn that, along with other things that you once took for granted. You’re friends are going to have to help you through that, and you’ll know who are true to you by how they interact with you in the next stages of your life.” Pamela rubs her head. “I know you’re not into talking about your feelings, but that’s going to have to be put to the side. You may not think so, you may think that you can get through this by yourself.” Her voice gentles. “But you can’t. You won’t be able to get through this by yourself. You have friends and family for a reason. Use them, and they will be happy to be used, because they want to help. They want you to get better.”

Dean takes all this in while watching Pamela silently. Charlie thinks that if she were anyone else he would have walked out the door ten minutes ago.

“I’ll think about it,” he eventually grates out. Charlie feels her heart ease slightly. Maybe he can get past this after all.

Dean goes to touch Pamela, and as they do she stiffens. Dean and Charlie wait it out. Charlie’s never seen a psychic go through a vision, but she knows the signs, and all of them are there.

When she comes to, she shakes her head a little before taking a deep breath. Chuckling slightly, Pamela lets go of Dean’s hand.

“Well I always knew you were special. Go on now, go and live your life. Because you’re going to be needed…” Her voice trails off and she becomes silent. Charlie knows that they won’t get anything else out of her today, even though her words are sending an ominous shiver own her spine. Dean looks uneasy as well, but neither of them talk about it as they make their way back to Dean’s room.

Charlie hastily convenes the other people in her team so she can tell them about Pamela. They all look disgusted with themselves that they didn’t think of asking her earlier.

“I don’t think you’re going to get anything out of her,” Charlie says.

Rufus sighs and sets his jaw. “We have to try. Annie, Ash, go and talk to her, get her to tell you some more. Everyone else, let Dean choose his own time to talk about what happened. We don’t want to push him away from us.”

Everyone nods and Victor goes to take his place by Sam’s side, where he watches his brother sleep. Charlie doesn’t know what’s happening with his fiancé, since he hasn’t left Phoenix for four months. Doesn’t he have his own law firm in DC? The lengths at which he would go for his brother showed her that the love Dean had for his little brother is returned just as fiercely as it’s given.

She goes home, ready to get a good night’s sleep. The day has taken it out of her, and she needs to rest.

She comes back to her shift of looking over Dean for the next day. He seems to get better, sitting at the window and looking out at the world while he talks quietly to whoever is in the room with him. But on other occasions he would just stare at you silently if you tried to talk to him, and Victor had had a rib broken and two fractured when he tried to wake Dean up from a nightmare and the other man had reacted before he was entirely awake. Charlie had determined not to touch Dean while he is sleeping, even if it looked like he’s dreaming. _Especially_ if he is dreaming, she corrects herself.

Dean wouldn’t let the doctors examine him, and it had only been while he was in a coma that they could touch him. They had given the results to Rufus, who refused to share them with the rest of the team. Even Sam, who had heard the initial report, didn’t get any more information than what he had.

“It’s his examination, and he can choose who gets to read it,” Rufus had gruffly told them. Charlie hadn’t complained, and neither had anyone else. She didn’t want to know what they had done to him, and she didn’t think anyone else did either.

At the end of the two weeks Dean is told that he could leave that day if he let the doctors look over him, or he could wait another week until they knew he would be okay.

Dean glowers and snarls and grimaces but gives in. He comes out an hour later, pronounced physically healthy and let out of the hospital.

Dean surprises everyone by halting them all in the lobby.

“Look, I need a break. You guys can function without me for a while, and I’ve already talked it over with Sam. He said I could come and crash with him for a while in DC. I’ll be back, after I sort everything out.”

Rufus opens his mouth, and everyone watches for the older man’s reaction. He finally sighs and shrugs. “Fine. But I’m not paying you.”

Dean nods, accepting it. “I didn’t think you would.”

“But there will be a spot for you if you want to come back.” Rufus looks away as he says this, and Charlie thinks that the older man will miss him, in his own way.

Dean says goodbye to all the others before coming to her.

“I’ll be back,” he promises as he hugs her. Charlie holds him for a moment, not knowing what to think. She eventually bites her lip and says the obvious.

“Be careful. Get that tattoo. Look out for Sam, but also look out for yourself.”

Dean nods. “I will Charlie. And you make sure to keep an eye on everyone here. Not sure how they’ll function without me.”

That brings a small smile to her face. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll find some way to manage.”

“I’m sure it won’t be for long. Just until everything starts to make sense again.”

“Okay.” She hesitates. “I’ll miss you.”

Dean’s mouth twitches. “I’ll miss you too. See you later, alright?”

Charlie nods, and watches as he and Sam drive away.

It’s going to be weird without them.

~*~*~*~

_Rufus,_

_Dean’s not getting any better. I know you want him back on the team, but I don’t think that it’s going to happen anytime soon. I’ve been trying to get him to see a therapist, and I think he might go for it. That’s what I’m hoping at least. He needs to talk to someone, and if it’s not me, or you, or anyone else he knows, maybe someone trained to deal with this will be better. I know we rescued a therapist from vamps a while back, and I still have his number. Hopefully he’s going to be willing to return the favour._

_As for his symptoms, there are lots. He hardly sleeps, and when he does, he dreams. They must be about horrible things, because he won’t tell me about them, or even the general gist of them. If Jess or I try to wake him he attacks us. I’m sure he doesn’t mean to, but it till happens. I’ve learned not to touch him in his sleep after he fractured my cheekbone._

_Sometimes I hear him get up in the middle of the night, but when I go down to check on him he’s vomiting and retching in the bathroom. If I try to help him then, he won’t accept it, and just tells me to go away. It breaks my heart._

_Have you convinced Pamela to tell you what she knows? If we could get even a general idea of what he went through, then I think we could deal with him better._

_Sincerely, Sam_

~*~*~*~

_Rufus,_

_Talk to Pamela, please. Dean is hallucinating frequently, and I’m starting to fear that he’ll attack Jess or I when he’s awake. Jess doesn’t know about the supernatural, and she won’t believe my excuses for long. She’s a smart lady._

_I’m worried._

_Sincerely, Sam_

~*~*~*~

_Rufus,_

_I know Pamela is being difficult, but I really need to know_ some _information. This week’s been hard, and it’s got to do with more than Dean._

_The therapist that I told you about agreed to work with Dean, but Dean’s being difficult. I finally managed to convince him to go, and that’s probably the best thing that’s happened this week._

_Kevin can’t handle all the cases at work, and he told me that he understands that Dean needs help, but that I need to be in at work. I can’t say no to him, because he’s been so great these last six months, so I agreed to come back in on Monday. He sounded so relieved on the phone, and I felt so guilty for keeping under so much stress for so long. With more cases, I won’t be able to help Dean as much._

_I can’t ask Jess to do it, because she has her job at the hospital. She says that this month is critical, because the head of nursing retired and they’re looking for his replacement. She says that she thinks she has a chance at the job, but only if she’s working more than she has to. I want to support her, but then who can support Dean? I can’t hire anyone, because nobody would understand what he’s going through. They wouldn’t understand his resourcefulness either. This week, he figured out that I hadn’t told Jess about the supernatural. It’s a sign of how out of it he’s been that he only just picked that up, after living here for two months. He threatened to tell her if I didn’t. So I think Jess is happy to have a reason to be out of the house, to work through how she feels about our world. I’m lucky that she didn’t break off our engagement after I all but disappeared for four months, and came back with my brother, with no solid explanation I could give her. She’s been living off faith, and now I don’t know if she’ll want to stay with me, or if she wants to leave._

_I don’t think Dean’s getting better. Last night I had to pin him to the ground for half an hour before he realised who I was. He kept screaming something about Alastair, and how he doesn’t want to get taken again. He was talking about more than that, but I was preoccupied with keeping the kitchen knife he had away from my throat. I’m just glad that Jess wasn’t there._

_I’m sorry for dumping all this on you. You probably don’t want to hear about what’s happening in this house, and I could have just summed it up in one word; chaos. But you asked for updates on Dean, and I’m giving them to you._

_Again, I don’t think he’s going to be coming back anytime soon, and I don’t think you should force it. I don’t think you_ can _force it. And even if you tried, I would stop you. I know he’s the best you have, but he’s not fit to tie his own shoelaces, let alone face what he would see in Phoenix._

_Sincerely, Sam_

~*~*~*~

_Rufus,_

_Things have been getting better since last month, no thanks to Pamela. After what she said to you, I hope I don’t see her for a while more. I think I might have to restrain myself from killing her, even if Dean makes a full recovery. She had no right to say what she did._

_Dean’s been seeing his therapist regularly, and I think it’s helping. He no longer wakes up screaming, and a whole day can pass now, and he can act like he did before all this happened. He has a darker air about him now, and he seems more wary of the world, even when he’s completely lucid, but I can’t blame him. I think anyone would be changed by what he went through, and I just thankful he’s not catatonic._

_Jess decided that I was worth finding out that the supernatural are real, although she gave me a slap over the head for keeping it a secret for so long. Dean laughed at that. It’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh in over six months._

_I think he might be on the road to recovery, but don’t get your hopes up. There are still days when he’s unable to function and I have to spoon feed him, if he lets me near him at all._

_Sincerely, Sam_

~*~*~*~

_Rufus,_

_I don’t know what Garth did to survive that, but you’re right. Dean would have loved to be there. I didn’t tell him about it though. Lately he’s been moody, and when I ask about it he says it’s nothing. But I know he’s think of the team and how he wants to be back in Phoenix. Knowing him, he probably thinks something like he’s not good enough to be on the team because he got jumped by demons. Which is utter bullshit, but you know how his mind works. I want to help, but I don’t know how. Jess doesn’t know how to help either, but she wants to. We both want to._

_He’s getting better. Slowly, slowly, but he’s getting there. I think that he will be able to get back to work before May._

_Sincerely, Sam_

~*~*~*~

_Rufus,_

_Dean finally told me what happened. It was worse than I thought. I could hardly sit through it. He told me I could tell you, Ellen and Bobby, but that he didn’t want anyone else knowing._

_He had had a screaming nightmare, not something that happens often anymore. I’d waited until he’d woken up and told me I could come in before I did. Then he sat on the floor, and told me what happened. He… Rufus it was horrible._

_The demon who took him was named Alastair. He was the one who Dean had been yelling about, who I told you about before. Alastair is a high ranking demon, and is the chief inquisitor in Hell._

_Alastair can make the host stay awake in their body and witness all that he does in their bodies while they’re was possessed. I’m sure that Dean didn’t tell me half of it, but the half that he did was enough for me._

_I don’t know how Charlie missed it, but Alastair always had a person to torture, day and night. Alastair had taught him how to torture, how to do what Alastair did every day to those people. He got other information about the demon as well, he told me that, but he didn’t tell me what. I didn’t push. He told me that he had learned things from the demon, and how Alastair had toyed with his mind, praising him for taking interest and twisting his thoughts and feelings until he was someone else. He told me how that was all he sees when he sleeps at night._

_He cried into my shoulder as he said it. Rufus, I think he might be over the worst of it. He went to sleep straight after he had told me everything, and slept for the next three days. Jess was worried, but I told her to wait it out. He woke up and ate half a box of cereal, not pausing once to stare out the window for ten minutes like he usually does while eating breakfast._

_I think he might insist on going back to Phoenix soon. If you all could look after him, I would appreciate it. I know Dean wants to be there, and he was extremely grateful when I told him that you held a space for him._

_In any case, I think you’ll see him soon._

_Sincerely, Sam_

~*~*~*~

_March 2, 2008_

Dean looks around his apartment. It’s dusty, and he doesn’t think anyone has been in here since he left it, nearly nine months ago. The washing up he had left in the sink is still there, and he won’t be surprised if he finds some sort of infestation in here, because the place reeks.

He opens all the windows and looks over his view of downtown Phoenix for the first time in what seems like forever. He would have left his door open as well to get a breeze going through, but he is planning on checking all his weapons, and having anyone able to walk past and see that is probably not the greatest idea.

He checks all his hiding spots, and brings out all of the items hidden inside of them, placing them on the kitchen bench. He puts all the herbs and items that are out of date on one bench, so he can dispose of them properly later.

He isn’t set to check in to the office until Monday, so he spends the time he needs cleaning up his apartment, even though it takes him the next three days. He vacuums and cleans and restores his apartment as best that he can, throwing all the linen out and buying new sheets from the department store down the road. The most time consuming task is cleaning all his weapons, and making sure that his guns aren’t going to backfire the next time he shot them.

He makes a cursory check of the apartment on the fourth morning, but everything is clean and hidden away again. He opens his door and locks it, before walking down three doors. He knocks, and after a few minutes have passed and he’s considering knocking again, Chuck opens the door.

He looks like he always does, stubble running riot over his cheeks and smelling faintly of alcohol. His clothes are crumpled and look several days old.

But even though his appearance might be messy, his smile is genuine. “Dean!” He exclaims happily. “I haven’t seen you in ages. What’s it been, almost a year?”

Dean nods, and follows the other man into his apartment. “I have all your mail, but I’m pretty sure there’s more than one unpaid bill in there.”

Dean winces slightly, but shrugs. He owns his apartment, and he can set up everything else again. The water is still on, but there isn’t any internet or power.

Chuck chatters on to him while he makes coffee, and Dean watches the other man, happy to have something normal in his life right now that didn’t involve the supernatural or have any reminders from the last year.

Chuck gives him his coffee, and then goes into another room. Dean sips at his hot drink, and watches as Chuck brings out an armload of letters. Then another. And another.

Chuck dumps the final pile of letters on the kitchen bench top. “That’s all of it, I think.”

Dean looks at the pile of letters and shakes his head. “Thanks, I guess.”

“It’s gonna be weird not collecting them anymore,” Chuck says wistfully.

“I really appreciate it Chuck.”

“Anytime.”

Dean leaves the apartment without Chuck asking once where he had been. Perhaps the younger man is more subtle than he had thought.

He still has another day off, and he spends it walking around Phoenix. The city is big, and he won’t be able to trace every street in one day, but he tried. When he finds himself outside the psychic’s house, he sighs quietly to himself, but presses the doorbell anyway. Why they even have a door bell he has no idea. Maybe to make them look normal.

The door opens and Missouri stands there. “So you’ve finally decided to come and say hello.”

“I’ve been cleaning.” And he hadn’t wanted to confront Pamela so soon, if she is even here.

“I know. That could have waited.”

Dean follows Missouri into the kitchen, and she gives him a glass of water and an already prepared hot melted cheese sandwich.

“Thanks,” Dean says, because he had left his apartment without any cash on him, and it was verging on two o’clock now.

“You’re welcome,” Missouri says. She starts taking out ingredients and combining them, and it isn’t long before Dean’s finished and she’s kneading some sort of dough.

She doesn’t ask questions. She lets the silence lay until Dean starts talking to end it. He ends up telling her about living with Sam, and doesn’t touch on the events before it that much, but they come up every so often. By the time she starts adding different nuts and raisins to the dough he’s finished.

“Pamela told me most of it,” Missouri says. “But you need to tell your workmates. They need to know why you’ve been gone for so long.”

“It isn’t any of their business,” Dean replies stiffly.

“Yes it is honey. They need to know.” The way that she says it makes Dean think that she knows something, and it annoys him. He isn’t going to do what she says just because she’s a psychic. He tells her so, and she casts a stern look at him.

“You can run all you want, but it’s going to sneak up on you sometime. Trust me Dean, it’s better this way.”

He isn’t going to tell them, and she knows it. She sighs and puts the dough in a bowl and covers it with plastic wrap.

After he’s stayed for an hour simply talking with her, he gets up the courage to ask about Pamela.

“She got a call from a relative who has a spirit problem in their next door neighbour’s house. She’s sorting it out. Nothing dangerous,” she adds, when Dean is about to protest. “Not yet. Simply some cupboards opening and shutting by themselves, some cold spots in the house, the usual. She can handle it. It’s a simple thing to just help the spirit pass over to the other side.”

Dean nods grudgingly. Even if Pamela no longer had her sight, she was still capable of dealing with one calm spirit.

Missouri drove him home, and Dean bid her goodbye outside his apartment building.

He wants to get enough sleep so that he’s not tired tomorrow, but he doubts it will happen. He lets out a deep breath before cracking open the seal of a new bottle of whiskey.

~*~*~*~

_April 3, 2008_

A month after he had been back in Phoenix, the first demon case comes up.

Dean had been on two other hunts since he’d gotten back, one of them a cursed ring that made whoever is wearing homicidal, and a young shape shifter, nothing too hard or dangerous.

Annie and Victor had taken down a vamp nest, Garth and Ash had faced a werewolf pack, and even Rufus had faced off against some Japanese ghost. Dean still doesn’t have a partner officially, and it’s beginning to make him slightly disgruntled. He wants what he sees other partnerships have, the closeness of knowing you can trust the other person with your life and being able to talk about anything with them. He sees it every day in Annie and Victor, and in Garth and Ash.

The closest he has is Charlie, but he doesn’t think she’s ever been on a hunt in her life. Sighing, he continues paging through the newspaper he has in his hands.

He stops on an article on a missing person in Salt Lake City, Utah. As the main city in the state, there are numerous papers that the city has, and the one in front of him is one of the smaller ones.

He searches the missing man in the FBI’s database, and his missing person’s report comes up. Dean studies it, before searching for anyone else who had gone missing in Salt Lake in the last week.

The city is big, but not big enough for twelve people going missing in five days. When he searches the weather patterns surrounding the city in the last week there’s been thunderstorms all week.

Demon signs all over the city. He sends the information to Charlie in an email, and watches as she gets it and frowns over the information inside.

He walks over to her desk and waits for her to read through everything. “What do you think?” He asks, when he sees her start to check for additional information.

“I think it’s probably a demon case,” she says after a minute.

“Good. Do you think anyone else will want to come with me as back up?”

Charlie looks up at him. “You’re going?” She asks, sounding surprised.

“Yeah. I haven’t done anything in a while, and the last hunt you sent me on was a homicidal ring.”

“Do you think it’s maybe a bit too soon for you to be going on demon hunts?” Charlie asks carefully.

Dean clenches his jaw. “I’m perfectly fine,” he grits out. Charlie looks like she’s reserving judgement, but nods eventually.

“If you think so,” she says neutrally. “I’ll ask if Garth and Ash are free to go along. You go and tell Rufus, and get everything sorted.”

It takes longer than Dean remembers to get through all of the paperwork, but that might be because he asks if Charlie can come along. Rufus chews over it for an hour before asking Charlie if she wants to. The red haired girl agrees nervously, and Rufus arranges for the entire team to go on the hunt that Dean discovered, to make sure Charlie has enough protection on her first hunt.

Dean interviews the witness, and tries to ignore the blood at a crime scene that they examine. They find traces of sulphur and track the demons to an apartment building on the outskirts of the town.

Charlie’s nervous, and the rest of the team are simply getting ready for the raid, used to the nerves before a confrontation. Ash has a fracture in his left wrist that’s just healed, so he would be patrolling the perimeter with Charlie.

“Is everyone ready?” Dean asks. The team nods, and he smiles at Charlie. “Okay. Then take your positions, and be ready to move in five.”

They’re fairly certain that the demons are inside, and by entering in two different spots they can hopefully take them by surprise, and cut off any escape routes.

Dean rounds a corner inside and resists the urge to simply shoot the woman in front of him. Victor turns the corner behind him, and pauses before he runs into Dean.

“Is that Meg?” Victor whispers. Dean nods stiffly.

Meg is talking to the demons in front of her, and with a wave of her hand she dismisses them to do whatever task she needed them to do.

Dean sees Annie and Garth appear on the other side of the room. Dean hopes that Garth won’t do anything that will endanger everyone else; from what he had observed of the younger man, he seemed to excel in creating dangerous situations and then getting knocked out so he didn’t need to deal with fixing them.

“What do you want to do?” Victor asks quietly.

Dean opens his mouth to answer, but before he can say anything, Meg speaks up.

“I know you’re there Dean. I can feel your soul, all lovely and corrupted.”

Dean grits his teeth and takes a step further, so he’s in the dim light that the one light bulb lends the room.

Meg smiles at him and looks him over, looking proud. “Alastair did a fine job,” she grudgingly admits. “I know the rest of you are there as well.”

Annie, Victor and Garth step out. Meg looks at them disapprovingly. “So you’ve decided to return to your former job instead of joining the dark side?” She drawls.

Victor shoots him a questioning look, but Dean shakes his head.

“I’m not sure Alastair kept you for long enough,” she continues, seemingly unconcerned at the four gun that are pointed at her. “You’ve got enough fight left in you that he needed to keep you a little longer. He told me that you fought him, but that you eventually gave in.”

Dean can see Annie’s raised eyebrows from across the room.

Meg looks around at his companions. “Wait a second,” she says, and then begins to grin broadly. “They don’t know?”

Dean doesn’t say anything. His heart is beating wildly, to no particular pattern that he can discern.

She whistles lowly through her teeth. “Well then, isn’t it going to be a treat for them?”

“Shut up Meg. It’s listening to you talk that got me in this mess in the first place,” Dean growls, not taking his eyes off the demon in front of him.

Meg smiles, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder. “Alastair should have kept you for another month or two. He claims he was preserving your spirit, but I think he left a little _too_ much spirit. You’re not broken, not yet.” She bites her lip and looks him up and down. “And maybe not useful to us,” she muses to herself. “So you didn’t tell them how Alastair kept you conscious while he possessed you?”

“Shut up Meg,” Dean growls.

Meg shrugs. “It’s your story to tell, I guess. I just think they should know if the person that they’re entrusting their life to has really big issues. And also, I’m just going to tell you that we’re done here. Nothing much else to do.”

“What were you doing in the first place?” Dean demands.

Meg winks at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she says, before disappearing into thin air.

They search the entire building, but all that they find are several unconscious bodies free of demon possession. They pick up Garth and Charlie, who didn’t see any demons enter or leave the building before they call the local police. The police collect the people, not asking any questions when the team brandish their badges and use their brisk air of professionalism to disarm and intimidate them.

Dean can feel the storm of questions that the others have, and he appreciates it that they wait until they’re alone in the hotel room and the debrief of the case is over before Annie asks him what Meg was going on about.

They’re all curious, and Dean can see how they’ve all wanted to know what’s going on ever since he was abducted last year. He feels bile rise in the back of his throat, but he swallows it down and looks away.

He tells them, in short, snappy sentences. There’s silence when he’s done, and he doesn’t look at anyone’s faces. He doesn’t want to see whatever was there.

“I think I should avoid the demon cases from now on,” Dean says lowly, not wanting to think about the renewal of nightmares that he is sure will happen now.

Charlie looks up at him, her eyes wide. She nods slowly, Ash and Garth echoing it in the background. Annie and Victor look sick.

Dean doesn’t want to feel this way in front of them; wide and bleeding and open. The image of a knife forms in his mind, and he settles on it as his next goal. He would not be weak.

~*~*~*~

_April 19, 2008_

The blade feels light in his hand. It took him a week to track it down, but in the end his memories had been right, and he’d dug for a few hours before encountering a set of stone doors in the ground.

The crypt had opened up to him easily after he breaks the padlock on the outside, and he had stepped into the darkness, waving a flashlight around and being careful of where he stepped, in case the demons had left something nasty in wait. There hadn’t been any traps, and Dean had found the main room easily.

The blade had been inside a small box, and Dean had taken the entire thing with him. The box is sitting open on his motel room table while he admires the knife. The handle looks and feels like it’s made of very old wood. If there had been inscriptions or ornamenting on the handle they had been worn away by years and too many hands holding the blade.

The blade itself is engraved with several symbols that Dean can’t identify. He doesn’t know where the knife was made, or how, or why, but he does know one thing.

It can kill demons. And in the new world Dean finds himself in, he’s going to need it.


	8. A New Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With still no cases at the FBI HQ in Phoenix, Dean and Charlie head down to level three, to see if they can latch onto a case that the search and find department has. What comes out of the trip is not something that Charlie was expecting, and something that Dean has been hiding from for fifteen years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 complete!
> 
> Don't worry, all that means is that all of the prewritten chapters that I had are now posted. From now on, updates might be a little more spaced apart, since I'll be writing the chapters as I go. And with my exams weeks this week and next week, I won't have time to write for a while, sorry! 
> 
> The only justification that I have for this chapter is that it's my number one headcanon for Dean, and that I felt like I needed to include it for my very first long fanfiction. Maybe later they'll be only fluffy and cute long fics... Or maybe not, as all the cute I write seems mysteriously turn into angst somehow. 
> 
> Warning: Also kind of spoilers for the story, but you would have probably worked it out by now, but if you're still reading this then you want the warning, okay, there's mentions of past bottom Dean in a nonconsenual setting in this chapter, which is why this is tagged with rape and underage.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

When Dean gets back from DC after Christmas and there are _still_ no cases, he asks Rufus if he and Charlie can go and work for another unit for a few weeks.

“Normal shit, like serial killings and kidnappings and stuff. Nothing supernatural. It’ll give us a break. Don’t you always say we need breaks and are annoyed when we don’t take them? Annie and Ash are working at their other qualified jobs, and Victor and Garth have taken their leave, so are you going to have us sit here and do nothing when we don’t have any cases?”

Rufus sighs, looking at the paperwork he still has piled on his desk. Dean would have thought that this would be an excellent time to get rid of it all, but he’s beginning to think that the stack of papers is a permanent feature of the desk. “Fine. But one case only. I can’t have nobody in the office for an extended period of time. Go and talk to the search and find department, and if they’ve got something going on, you can join in on that. Take Charlie with you as well, she looks like she’s been having too much fun lately.”

“Yes sir.” Dean replies, holding in a grin. Rufus sees it and rolls his eyes, shooing him out of his office, probably so he can continue completing his endless forms. Dean walks over to Charlie, already thinking about what they could do down on level three. “Rufus said we could go and join the search and find team if they have anything going on right now.”

Charlie looks relieved. “Thank God. I’ve been sitting here playing minesweeper and emailing Lara for the last two hours. Let’s go and talk to them.” She types a few more words and then sends the email off, probably telling Lara she has some actual work to complete.

In the FBI training course, you usually studied for just one course, the one you were enrolling in and hoped to join when you qualified. But the SPN course couldn’t be taught in the open with the other recruits, and attending every class is necessary to pass. There is only one SPN student, if that, every year, so when you enrolled you also took another class. Dean and Charlie had both taken the search and find course, Dean with three other people – Diana Ballard, Kathleen Hudak and Erica Cartwright. The three ladies had taken none of Dean’s shit, and had left him with a different outlook on women that had helped when Charlie had joined the team.

Dean and Charlie wander down to the third floor, and talk their way past the secretary. Dean looks around for any of the three people he knows while Charlie explains their predicament to the person who had stopped them. She is probably looking for the leader of the department to see if they had anything open for them.

Standing on his tip toes for a second, Dean thinks he can see the top of Erica’s head in a cubicle, and was that Diana walking into another room on a phone?

“Dean?”

Turning, he smiles at Kathleen. She looks stunned, and Dean doesn’t blame her. After he had never shown up at the office after their training, she must have assumed that he’d gone on to pursue a different career. And since Dean didn’t exactly visit other floors regularly, and stayed back late when he is in the office, there had been a very slim chance that any of the three women had seen him since their training days. Dean is surprised that Kathleen even remembers him.

“Kathleen, hey how you doing?” Dean asks, smiling at the shorter woman. She draws in a breath and crosses her arms.

“So you’ve been working for the FBI the whole time and you never came down here to say hello?”

Dean pursed his lips. “You would’ve asked why I wasn’t here in the search and find team, and I couldn’t have had that. Secret stuff and strained friendships, you know.”

Kathleen frowns at him. “So what department are you working in?”

“See, I told you you’d ask. I can’t tell, sorry. I just had to take any course in the training, and I chose yours. Seemed easy enough, but I didn’t count on the three spitfires I’d have to spend six months with.”

“Still, you never thought it’d be nice to come and say hi?”

“I just wanted to have good memories.”

Kathleen raises her eyebrows and tilts her head judgmentally. “Memories that are now what, nearly ten years old?”

Wow, has he really been working for the FBI for ten years? “Sounds about right.”

Kathleen shakes her head. “You are lucky that I remembered you at all. What are you doing here anyway?”

“We have nothing to do upstairs, so since Charlie and I are both qualified to work here, I asked my boss if we could come and help you for a while. Two of my other teammates are taking their leave, and two more are also helping in different departments, not that Ash limits himself to helping us only. But we’re hard up for work, and so we came here. Do you have any cases?”

“You should be talking to the captain about this, not me,” Kathleen says. Dean notices that the other man Charlie was talking to is gone, and she’s now listening to their exchange. “Lucky for you, she knows you as well.”

“No way,” Dean says. “Who is it? Diana or Erica?”

“Guess.”

Dean pauses. “She’s standing behind me, isn’t she.”

Kathleen nods. “Guess well.”

Biting his lip, Dean draws in a breath. “Erica?”

“What, you think I’m not good enough to run this joint?”

Dean turns and Diana’s standing there, frowning at him, while Charlie looks like she’s trying not to laugh. Dean scowls at her for half a second before putting on his most charming smile for Diana. “I think you’re overqualified to run this joint, and that you’d moved on to better things.”

Diana sniffs. “Nice save. So you’re looking for work, finally, after training with us and then abandoning us?” She starts walking, and Kathleen waves before walking off. Dean and Charlie follow her, and Charlie whispers in his ear.

“How many of them did you sleep with?”

Dean shrugs and breathes back, “Only Erica. If she were the one standing behind me I thought it was best not to say Diana.”

She narrows her eyes and shakes her head at him.

Closing the door behind them, Charlie and Dean stand side by side as Diana sits at her desk. “So you’re still working for the FBI, somewhere you can’t tell us about. You know that sounds like bullcrap?”

“Thirteenth floor, every day when we’re not out in the field, I promise.”

“I don’t know why you’d choose to come down here rather than take a holiday just because you have no work.”

“We’re used to a lot of work,” Charlie interjects. “And we haven’t done anything for over a month, so everyone on our team was getting edgy.”

Diana knots her hands under her chin and rests her elbows on the desk. “I do have a job that just popped up. I was going to send Kathleen on it, but you two can accompany her. Under her command.” Diana adds when Dean opens his mouth. “I know you were all leadership high, but you haven’t done anything in ten years.”

“Trust me, we have to track down stuff all the time in our jobs.” It is one of the main things Dean has to do in his job. Most of the time he tries to get Charlie or Ash to do all the legwork, since research sucks, but he knows how to do it if required.

“Maybe so, but since you can’t tell me what your job is, I can’t really take your word on that. So do you want it or not?”

Charlie and Dean nod, and before Dean knows what happened, they’re in Illinios, tracking down two girls who are somehow travelling along the I-70, running away from their abusive parents. An investigation had been launched into the parents when the kids had disappeared, and both of them are behind bars and facing child abuse charges, but the two girls don’t know that.

“So we think the next town they’re going to be in is St Louis, right?” Charlie is typing away, probably searching for the bus timetable, and when they’re going to get in.

“Yeah, it’s the way they were headed, and they’d have to stop there if they continued on the I-70.” Kathleen is sitting opposite Charlie, while Dean is sprawled out on the bed.

“So we’re here, do we just patrol the bus stations?”

Kathleen shrugs. “I’ll ask the local businesses to let us look at their security footage, see if we can see anything.”

“Or, I could just get them now, save some time, they don’t even know the FBI’s here.”

Kathleen looks up and looks like she’s about to say something, but Dean beats her to it. “Can you put the facial recognition system into your fancy ass computer, see if you can find them that way?”

Charlie sends him a look. “Already done. Give me an hour, and my computer will have searched through every security camera in this town, and the bus stations from the last four.”

“Cool. Does that mean we can have a nap?” They had made them fly here, and Dean still hadn’t recovered. He _hates_ flying, and Charlie knows that, but Kathleen had looked at him and told him they were flying and that if he didn’t want to board the plane he could stay behind. Dean had flown here, but it had been very reluctantly, and he had the dark pleasure of seeing Kathleen’s face when he threw up on her. She hadn’t been happy, but it had been her fault in the first place for not getting out of Dean’s way in time when he had told her he needed to use the bathroom.

“Yes, you can nap, but if you wake me up, I will hit you with something heavy,” Charlie’s eyes flick to Kathleen for a moment, and Dean gets the message. Kathleen is here, and unless he wants to explain why he’s waking up the entire motel he should keep it down.

Dean grunts and puts the pillow over his head. He can hear Charlie and Kathleen moving and talking, but he tunes them out, trying to sleep.

~*~*~*~

Charlie sighs quietly to herself as Dean pulls a pillow over his head. She had meant what she said – she wants a full night’s sleep, and if Dean wakes her with his screaming she would throw something at him. After she had made sure he was alright.

She doesn’t begrudge him his tiredness. She knows that he hates flying, even if he was going to be helping kids at the end of it. Kathleen pulls a face at her.

“What do you mean if he wakes you up?” She asks lowly.

Charlie finishes finalising the program on her computer, and looks up at Kathleen. “I mean, that if he wakes me up, I won’t be happy.”

Kathleen tilts her head slightly. “But why would he wake you up?”

Charlie purses her mouth, looking towards Dean. He’s snoring quietly already, a testimony to how tired he is. Even if he once had trusted Kathleen, he hasn’t had contact with her in ten years, and that trust would have had to rebuild itself it slowly. Even with just her in the room, Dean had trouble falling asleep. Sometimes she thought he faked it so she wouldn’t feel bad for keeping him up.

Deciding that Dean is asleep, she turns to Kathleen. “It means that he has horrible dreams almost every night, and he wakes up screaming sometimes. I was just reminding him that you were here really. He won’t make any noise now.”

Kathleen looks uneasy, and Charlie can hear the next question before it’s spoken.

“What does he dream about?”

“Not just one thing, I think. He isn’t really open about it, but our job is worse than most, and that contributes.”

“But what do you do for a job?” The dark haired woman asks, looking frustrated.

Charlie shrugs. “Can’t tell you. Tip top security, you know.”

“Wait… You’re not part of the SPN unit, are you?”

Charlie shrugs again. “Can’t say anything.”

That’s as good as confirmation for Kathleen, and she spends the next ten minutes brooding silently. Charlie takes the time to think about Dean and what he dreams about. She knew that most of his dreams are about what went down with Alastair, but he had once told her that he dreams about other things as well. Although in this job, you could pick any day of the week and probably find the stuff of nightmares.

Running a hand through her hair, she bids Kathleen good night. The other woman takes one last look at Dean before leaving.

Charlie locks the door after her and takes her time setting the wards up. She can already see the twitchiness of Dean’s eyes and hands, and knows that he’s going to wake up soon, so there would be no point of trying to get to sleep. She also knew that there’s no point of trying to wake him up either. The one time she had tried, he had her in a choke hold on the floor in less than a second. It had taken nearly a minute to get through to him, and by that time Charlie had been on the edge of fainting from lack of oxygen.

Dean had apologized for days, but Charlie had learned her lesson. Don’t touch Dean while he’s sleeping.

Sure enough, just as Charlie finishes brushing her teeth and is about to get in bed to let Dean wake her up later, he bolts upright, panting softly. Charlie slowly moves into his plane of vision, and swallows when she sees his eyes tracking her. There’s something in them that freaks her out every time she does this, something that isn’t human, something that she doesn’t blame him for being there. Dean’s eyes follow her and then scan the room, looking for any other people and threats that he could find.

Charlie stays in the corner as he gets up and patrols the room, checking the defences that Charlie had laid out half an hour earlier. When he’s finished his hand creeps to the tattoo on his chest, and Charlie feels a pull in her chest at what that means. He’s checking to make sure that it’s not broken and that he’s safe from any demon that wanted an in on his meatsuit. Dean probably didn’t want her, or anyone else for that matter, to know about the habit, but Charlie sees it sometimes, when he doesn’t know that she’s looking. She thinks that it says a lot about his character, and what he fears.

While the Dean that she works with might not want her to know, this Dean is different. Just for a minute or so, and she only sees it in certain situations, usually when he’s just woken up, he’s different. This animal Dean is something else, and Charlie wants to cry at the change that Alastair has worked in him. It can’t have been made any better by what happened a few weeks ago when he met with Alastair again.

The look fades from Dean’s eyes, and he shakes his head. “Charlie?” He says. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Charlie says, making her voice light. “I was just about to go to sleep anyway.”

Dean nods, but he doesn’t move back to his bed. Charlie can see the sweat that’s beginning to dry on his skin, and as he walks back out to the kitchen, she knows that he isn’t going to go back to sleep anytime soon.

Charlie sighs sadly before turning down her sheets and climbing in.

~*~*~*~

Charlie’s facial recognition gets a hit, as a camera has captured the girls getting onto a bus headed out of town. They catch the same bus company, and take the time to ask questions and get to the next town as well, Columbia, Missouri. None of the employees have any relevant information, and Dean suppresses his frustration. They’ll find the girls in the next city and return them to somewhere where they’re safe. Who knows how they’re getting money now.

Charlie spends her time on the bus on her computer, accessing the bus company’s information to find out how the kids had paid, or if they paid at all. She also looks at the bus that the girls caught and where it was headed so they know where to go next.

“Dean, they have a bank account they’re using,” Charlie hissed to him across the aisle. “That’s how they’re paying.”

Dean nods. “Good. You put a tracker on it?”

“Of course.”

“So we just have to wait. Enjoy the ride Charlie.”

Getting out at Columbia, they book a hotel, Kathleen in one room and Charlie and Dean in another. Dean is about to insist that Charlie get some sleep when she speaks up.

“Dean.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks. Charlie frowns over her computer. It had been great when they had found out that the kids they’re tracking are using a bank account, so they can track where they’re at and how they travelled, and the main question, how they got enough money to travel as much as they did. Charlie had tracked their bank number after they had found it, and they had paid for every bus trip so far, and they’d travelled nearly half the span of America. But by the sound of Charlie’s voice, she had found something weird.

“I’ve figured out how they travel, or actually when they get their money.”

“When?” Dean asks, standing and going over to Charlie.

“Whenever they’re getting low on money, a bump happens in their account, and each time it’s either a multiple of 20, 40 or 60 dollars. 40, usually.”

Dean tenses, feeling the muscles in his shoulders bunch and tighten. “You said it was a fifteen year old and a nine year old?”

“Yeah, those are the ages.”

Dean licks his lips, trying to figure out how to say the next part. “I know how they’re getting the cash. It was a system that I used to use.”

Charlie sends him a questioning glance, but thankfully doesn’t ask any questions. “Where do you think they’ll be here then? They must have just got in today, like us.” She frowns for a second, fingers typing away on her laptop.

Dean sighs. “Give me all the motels marked on a map in the town, where the bus stop is and where the seediest bars are.”

Charlie raises her eyebrows, but a few clicks later Dean is looking over a map of the town marked with everything he asked for.

“What are you looking for?” Charlie asks.

Dean shushes her, eyes moving over the map, marking all the locations and streets, where the different places were and where he thought a fifteen year old girl running from the law might go.

“This one.” It’s near the bus stop, downhill, and past an ally that held, not the worst, but still pretty bad bar.

“How do you know?” Charlie asks sceptically, squinting her eyes at the map like she could get it to show her the reasoning that Dean used to choose that one.

“Because this girl thinks like me, and that’s what I would have done at fifteen years old, taking care of Sam and trying to keep the authorities off our trail.”

Charlie looks like she’s going to ask what was going on, but Dean is already picking up his jacket and walking out to get Kathleen.

He knocks quickly on Kathleen’s door. “Kathleen, I know where they are, or at least one of them, get dressed.”

Kathleen opens the door, still in her jeans and shirt, without shoes on. “How?” she asks as she tugs socks and shoes on.

“Charlie figured out what system they were using to get cash.”

Kathleen grabs her gun and bag before heading out, following Dean and with Charlie next to her. “We walking?”

“It’s not far,” Dean says.

It isn’t. Ten minutes later, Dean is opening the door to a shady and dirty looking bar, ignoring the memories that are threatening to make a reoccurrence. It’s nice to know that the smell of these types of places hasn’t changed after fifteen years.

“Charlie, go and chat up the bartender. Kathleen, come with me.”

They split, and Dean goes around all the corners of the bar while also watching for movement of someone leaving in a hurry. There was nothing and no one in the corners, but Dean hadn’t been expecting there to be.

“I’m going to check the bathrooms. Go and backup Charlie, make sure she’s okay talking to these guys.”

“Dean, what are we looking for?” Kathleen asks gingerly, looking around and probably wondering why the girls would be here.

“Just go and back up Charlie.” Charlie doesn’t need help, but he wants to get Kathleen away from what he might find in the bathrooms.

Kathleen waits another second but leaves. The bathrooms are clear, and there’s only one more place that he has to check.

“The bartender said he didn’t know anything,” Charlie says as they walk back over to him.

“He would, you two look like cops. Only more place they could be.”

Dean opens the door leading into the alley, and he was right. Alice Richie is on her knees, sucking some greasy looking pudgy guy off. Before he knows what’s hit him, Dean’s punched him three times, and is handcuffing him.

“You’re under arrest for statutory rape and sanctioning the continuance of prostitution. You have the right to remain silent, as all you say can and will be used against you. Kathleen, can you please call the local police department, tell them that they have someone to come and collect.”

Kathleen and Charlie have their mouths hanging open, and Dean sees it when Charlie connects the dots. Her eyes widen and then she just looks sad. He passes the guy to Kathleen, who pulls a face before taking out her phone.

Dean goes over to Alice, who is curled up against the wall of the alley and trembling. Dean can see where her bones are poking out, and feels a rush of hate for the people she is running from.

“Hey. I’m Dean, I’m from the FBI. I’m here to help Alice.”

“No!” She cries out. “You’re going to send us back to them!”

“You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to Alice, and that includes your parents. We just need to know that you and Lucy are okay.”

Alice peers up at him. “Promise you won’t take us back to them?”

“I promise,” Dean says. “You won’t have to do this ever again, I promise.”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” she whispers.

“I do,” Dean begins, but she shakes her head.

“No, you don’t! You don’t know!”

Dean looks away from the girl for a second before lowering his voice to a whisper. “When my dad would leave me and my brother alone for weeks on end, and we would run out of cash, I would do this as well, I know.” Dean tries to grab her eyes, and eventually she looks up.

“Anything to feed her, make sure she doesn’t go hungry, that we can keep moving and avoid the police. Guess that didn’t work.”

Dean swallows. “Yeah, anything to make sure they have food and shelter.”

Alice regards him warily for another few seconds. There’s the sound of cars pulling up, and Dean vaguely tracks the local police taking the guy from Kathleen and Charlie, and them explaining it.

Dean doesn’t try and touch Alice. He knows better than that.

“Alice, where’s Lucy?”

Alice looks suspicious again, and Dean waits it out. She licks her lips, and Dean can see how they’re bruised and swollen, and knows that she has been working longer than one man.

Shoving down his anger, he smiles slightly at her, and Alice hesitantly smiles back.

“Hey,” Dean says. “It’s going to be okay.”

Alice nods slowly, a tiny movement of her head, but Dean sees it, and thinks that maybe she can trust again, one day.

He wonders if he’s got to that point yet.

~*~*~*~

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Charlie tries not to make her voice sounds forceful, but it’s hard. She doesn’t know what to think anymore, now that she knows…that.

Kathleen bid them goodbye and after they had returned to Phoenix, making sure that they filled out their paperwork before they left.

Dean had immediately walked down to where the Impala had been stored under the building, and he hadn’t said anything or acted surprised when Charlie had followed him and sat down in the passenger seat.

Dean had driven silently back to his apartment and had immediately fetched a glass and poured some whiskey into it, downing it with a swallow before topping his glass up again.

He doesn’t look surprised when Charlie asks her question either.

“It’s not something that I like to tell people,” Dean grumbles into his glass. “And I think you’d know why.”

Charlie shifts. “I guess.” She says eventually.

Dean sighs. “I’m gonna tell you what happened, so that you don’t get any ideas, don’t make it seem worse than it was.”

“Like it could be worse than it sounds,” Charlie says flatly.

“Yeah it could be.” Dean pauses, and Charlie wonders if he’s ever told this story before. He drains his glass, looks at it, and then just grabs the bottle.

“Look, my dad kind of sucked at parenting. He brought us up in the life and was always hunting, always had us on the move with him. Sometimes he’d leave us in a hotel with some cash for weeks on end, and he didn’t always leave enough. So I’d try to get work, but I was young, and no one would hire me, so I’d steal food and money, but it took time and effort and it wasn’t always enough. When I got caught when I was fourteen, Sam had to come and bail me out, and I still have no idea how he did it… Something to do with his puppy eyes, the ladies always fall for that. I realised that stealing just wasn’t the best option, and I had another way to earn lots of money, quickly. So if dad left us without enough cash, and we ran out and it looked like he wasn’t going to be back for another week or so…” Dean shifts so he’s facing away from Charlie, and if that makes him more comfortable with this, then she isn’t going to stop him.

“I’d, uh. _Prostitute_ myself.” He spits the words out, and Charlie flinches from it. “To get some extra cash. Sam knew, and he didn’t like it, tried to stop me going every single damn time, but I wasn’t having any of it. He needed food and a roof over his head, and I’d make that happen.” Dean takes a long pull out of the bottle he’d taken with him to the couch.

“It only went on for two years or so. Then, I don’t know, I mustn’t have prepped myself well enough one time, and even though I told the guy to stop, he didn’t. I came limping home to Sam dripping blood.” Charlie has to fight down her nausea. No wonder Dean didn’t want to get it on with a guy. “Fucker didn’t even pay me.”

“Sam didn’t like that, oh no, but I managed to stop him from calling the hospital, or worse, dad. When he came back a week later I could move, but only just. Dad said he had a lead but it was too dangerous to take us along, and that he’d be gone for a while so he’d be dropping us off at Bobby’s. Sam was always happy when we spent time there. But this time,” Dean shakes his head and stops for a minute.

“This time, before dad had even left, Sam had told Bobby. Must have had enough of seeing me go out and then come back with cash in my pocket and shame on my face, covered in the scent of seedy bars and seedier men. There was a massive blowout,” Dean laughs, and it isn’t a nice laugh. “Bobby took all of two seconds to ask me if it was true, and I guess my face must have been answer enough for him, because then he and dad were throwing punches and screaming at each other. Turns out that dad knew what I was doing already, and hadn’t said anything or done anything about it, not even given us more cash. In fact, I think the bastard gave us less, because he knew I could always get more.” Dean runs a hand over his face.

“Bobby said that dad would never see us again, and I think dad thought he was bluffing, because he just peeled out, taking one of Bobby’s trucks, he was so mad, leaving us with the Impala. Best thing he did that day,” Dean muses, and Charlie watches as he takes another pull of the whiskey. Charlie thinks that maybe John leaving was the best thing he’d done that day.

“Bobby wasn’t lying though. Sent us down to the Roadhouse, told Ellen and Bill what had happened. God, you should have seen Ellen. If dad had been there, then there was no chance he’d be walking out alive. They took us in for the next five years. Sam had a proper school, and I had a constant home without having to worry about cash. It was good.”

Charlie honestly doesn’t know what to say.

“So that’s kinda the reason I don’t want to hook up with any guys.” He lets out a breath, and continues, quieter. “You’re always bugging me about why.”

Charlie feels terrible.

Dean turns to look at her. “That’s… That’s not all,” he says quietly. He sighs, fiddling with the near empty bottle in his hands, and Charlie wonders what else there could be. “But the rest is none of your business, and it happened years later anyway. Not really connected to that anyway.”

Charlie lowers her brows in thought for a few seconds, before she feels like something’s punched her in the gut. “Did…” She clears her throat. “Did it have anything to do with Alastair?”

By the way Dean flinches, she doesn’t need an answer. She already knows. _Jesus Christ._

Dean bites his lip. “I’d appreciate it if you never mention it again. Any of it.”

Charlie clears her throat, nodding after a second. She could do that for him.

~*~*~*~

Her conversation with Dean puts her off for her date with Lara.

Charlie had been looking forward to meeting her after a week away from the other woman. To be able to get to know Lara better over dinner would have been great, and usually Charlie would have been on it like white on rice. But hearing about Dean’s past had put her in a weird mood, and Lara picks up on it as soon as she arrives.

“You okay?” She looks concerned, and Charlie takes a deep breath. Lara is too nice for her own good.

“Just some weird stuff at work. Nothing that troubles the security of the nation,” she assures the other woman when Lara starts looking worried. “Dean told me some stuff and… Yeah.”

Lara doesn’t say anything for a second. “You wanna go get ice cream?” She asks.

Charlie blinks. She doesn’t know what to think for a moment, before she realises, yes she would like that.

“That sounds great,” she says tiredly.

“Cool.” Lara smiles at her and grabs her hand, boosting Charlie’s mood further. She leads them through the city and past the restaurant they had agreed to eat at, and Charlie feels a moment of regret. Lara is probably hungry, and doesn’t want to deal with her problems, and she doesn’t even know why she puts up with her. It can’t be to get laid, because Lara hasn’t made any moves at all, just talking with her. Charlie would say she wants a friend, except that every now and then she’d say something flirty or would grab her hand.

It’s making her head spin, and she doesn’t get why this beautiful lady would want to be around her.

They’d gone on four dates, if you could call them that, so far. This would have been the fifth, and over that time Charlie had begun to understand Lara a bit. She’s inspired to work with computers because her father, Michael, is a _genius_ with them. Charlie studies his work when she wants to learn something new about the machines that she works and lives with.

Her mouth had hung open for a few minutes when Lara had told her that _Michael Cassar_ of all people is her father. Lara had laughed at her expression. Charlie just couldn’t believe that out of all people, she would be dating Michael Cassar’s daughter. Some things were surreal, even in her line of work.

They’d gone out to eat a few times, and once to play laser tag. It had been one of the most fun nights she’d had in quite a while, and it had been because of Lara. Charlie likes how the smaller woman can make her relax and have fun, forget about her job and what is really out there.

Lara is smart, cute, funny, and her babbling makes Charlie smile. She’s quickly becoming a part of her life that she wants to keep there, and laments not starting to date her sooner. Charlie hopes that Lara wants something long term, because it’s what Charlie wanted even before she met her, and now that she knows Lara better, she wants her in her life for a long time.

Lara gets chocolate ice cream and Charlie gets vanilla. They sit at one of the park benches in silence for a few minutes while they eat, and Charlie can feel Lara’s eyes on her, probably wondering what Dean had told her to make her this off balance.

They finish their ice cream and Lara starts talking, telling her about the small dog she has at home named Lucy. Charlie smiles as she describes Lucy’s exploits, and after Lara had exhausted that topic she talks about how her dad is coming to visit in a few weeks and how Lara is going to have to hide all of her work related computer gear and dodge his questions about what she does. It’s inane stuff that means that Charlie can’t really contribute anything, just nod along and listen, focus on something else and not have to think, which is exactly what she needs right now.

Lara finally gets her talking when she asks when her next LARPing session is coming up. Charlie takes over the conversation, happy to talk about something that has no connection to her work, the supernatural, or Dean, something that she’s passionate about. Lara asks if she can come along, and Charlie tells her excitedly that yes she can, but they’ll have to do some shopping for her costume. Lara accepts that, and Charlie thinks that she looks as excited as she is about the upcoming event.

Lara drags her up and they walk around the city for a while, chatting, before they end up in a park. Lara sits on one of the swings and Charlie sits beside her. The start discussing movies, something that Lara doesn’t have as much knowledge on but that Charlie is educating her about.

“I can’t believe that you’ve never seen Star Wars!” She exclaims.

Lara shrugs. “It just never came up.”

“You’ll have to come over and watch it sometime at my place.”

Lara raises an eyebrow and Charlie blushes slightly. “I can do that,” Lara continues, and the two women smile at each other slightly.

It’s nearly midnight by the time Lara says she has to leave. Charlie is used to the long nights but because she works in IT with the computers from the FBI, Lara has to leave at eleven, since that’s their cut off hour. That and Charlie doesn’t want to keep Lara if it means that she’ll be tired in the morning. Maybe later, but not this early in the relationship, or Lara might label her as a bad influence.

“I really needed this Lara. Thanks.”

Lara smiles softly at her. “Yeah, I could tell that you were acting weird as soon as you walked in the door, and isn’t that weird, because we’ve only known each other for like a month or so, well I’ve known you for longer, or at least knew you existed for longer than that, well you get the idea.”

Charlie hides a grin and nods. “Yeah, I get what you mean.”

Lara rubs her hands together. “I guess I’d better get going then. I’ll call you later, okay?”

Charlie nods, and tilts her head slightly when Lara continues to shift her weight from foot to foot nervously. Before she can say anything however, Lara darts forward and leans up, pressing her mouth against Charlie’s sweetly.

Lara draws away and grins at her, waving goodbye. Charlie waves back, watching her leave and tasting her on her lips.

~*~*~*~

Even after going on the search and find mission with Kathleen, they’ve had no cases, and Dean’s been chomping at the bit. The rest of the team are nearly as bad. Charlie’s the only one who is coping with it in a healthy way, and Dean doesn’t even think that it a _healthy_ way, anyway. She’s been spending the last month playing games at work, then leaving early to hang out with Lara, and Rufus can’t even tell her to stop because she has no actual work to do. Dean would laugh if he wasn’t so bored.

Charlie hasn’t changed how she relates to him, and Dean thanks her privately every day for that.

The angels haven’t been around at all, and Dean has counted that as a blessing. He’s had the last two months to think, and to think about the fact that… he wanted to kiss Cas.

He always knew that he could be attracted to men if he wanted to, but what he went through when he was a teenager… He just always thought that it would come between him and any guy that he found attractive. Charlie knew that he could be into guys if he let himself be, but he hopes that she would back off about it after what went down a few weeks ago. He didn’t actively fight against it, he just pretended that it didn’t exist. He acknowledged that it existed and then ignored it.

But Cas… along with being in a guy – a guy who is also _still there being possessed_ – is also an _angel_. A _supernatural creature_. What the fuck Winchester. You had to pick the most screwed up being to be attracted to. Good job there.

Dean wants to kill something, but he also doesn’t want any cases, because having cases meant that Cas would be around. And Dean thinks that he wants to avoid Cas, maybe for the rest of forever. Or maybe just another month or so. Except he wants to kill something. Except he needs to avoid Cas. Damn it.

Walking into Rufus’ office, he waits until the older man looks up.

“Did you find something? Finally?”

Dean shakes his head. “No. I was wondering if I could head down to the Roadhouse for a few days? You guys will probably be thankful for me to be missing from the office for a week or so.”

Rufus looks up at him. “You’re right. If I hear you complaining one more time I think I’m going to punch something. Go, then. Bring back some new books from Bobby.”

“Does that mean I can take some to Bobby?”

Rufus nods. “He won’t let you take any to him if you don’t. Take the new translations as well. They’ll probably sway him more than the books that we have. He’s probably seen them all before.”

Thanking his boss, Dean walks out the door to grab the translations from Charlie, and finds Castiel and Balthazar in the room.

They’re talking to Ash and Garth, Balthazar managing to look supremely bored as he listens, looking out the window like he’d rather be anywhere else. Walking quietly and hopefully unobtrusively over to Charlie, he asks for a copy of the texts, trying not to draw either of the angel’s attention to himself. Charlie gives him a look, like she doesn’t buy into any of his crap, but because it’s silent and only a look, Dean could successfully ignore it and not seem like a douche.

Dean grabs the copy off Charlie, and turns, only to come face to face with Cas.

“Hello Dean,” the angel says, and the normality of the greeting has Dean realising that even as he’s been angsting over the angel for the last two months, he’s also kind of missed him. But there’s something off about Cas, and he seems colder, stiffer, more like he was at the beginning.

Dean is annoyed that he even notices the difference.

Balthazar walks up behind Cas and gives Dean a long hard look. “Well Cassie, I didn’t notice _that_ before. You sure it’s a good idea?”

Cas looks at Balthazar for a few seconds, and the other angel huffs before disappearing.

“Hey Cas,” Dean answers, trying to act normal, which is hard because he just got once overed by _Balthazar_. What the hell. A small part of him comments that that isn’t the angel he wants staring at him. He ignores it. “I’m just heading off to the Roadhouse. There haven’t been any cases since you left, and we’re all going stir crazy in here. Annie and Ash have qualifications to work in other FBI areas, and they’re currently helping other teams if they’re out in the field. Charlie and I went to another department for a case, but Rufus wants us here, not travelling all over the country doing other people’s work. Garth and Victor have taken their leave, since they can’t exactly when they’re in the middle of a case, which leaves Charlie, Rufus, Krissy and I here to guard the office.”

Cas tilts his head and Dean tries not to find it attractive. “If you want we can practise flying. You should try to get used to it so that you can be ready as soon as we land.”

Dean pulls a face, but he really has no argument against that at all. “Hold these, will you?” He asks, giving Cas the few books he had pulled from Charlie’s desk as well as his own.

Walking into the library that branches off the main office, Dean starts pulling out books that he hasn’t shown Bobby yet. Armed with that as well as the files that were on the USB holding all of the translated books, Dean nods, ready to leave.

“Uh, can you take us to Bobby’s place then?” Dean asks, peering at the angel. Cas nods sharply and lays a hand on his arm. The sickening twist and pull and weightlessness occurs, and Dean thinks that it’s less his body getting used to the feeling, and more his brain. The horrible sensation fades, and Dean waits as his vision clears, swaying slightly, leaning up against the body beside him.

Blinking rapidly, he shakes his head before rubbing his scalp, trying to will the headache he can feel forming away. “That’s still pretty fucking weird, Cas.”

“It shouldn’t take many more trips until you have acclimatised fully,” the angel states as he places the books down on the coffee table. Dean looks around for Bobby, going through the kitchen and peering into the study. Just before he’s about to walk upstairs, Cas calls out. “Bobby Singer is not in this house. He is in the nearby town, however.”

“Okay then. We’ll just hang around until he shows up.” Dean comes back to the living room, where Cas is still standing in the same position he landed in. “Dude, relax.”

Cas looks over, to where Dean has placed himself on the couch. Raising his eyebrows, Dean gestures for the dark haired man to sit down next to him.

Cas does, and then proceeds to his favourite activity – Dean watching. But his eyes are stonier than Dean remembers, and there’s something off about them.

Dean lets out a breath and looks straight back. He’s had time to think over the last few months. About why Cas was so eager to get him to Alastair, what the whole brand on his arm could mean, as well as the fact that he had wanted to kiss Cas. He had decided to do nothing about that last one. Even if the angel reciprocated, which seems extremely unlikely, there’s still the whole vessel issue, as well as the fact that Cas _is_ _an angel_.

“Me giving permission for you to rummage through my head – was that a one-time thing?” Because he had had nightmares for the last two months, and Cas hadn’t appeared again to ask about it, or even appeared at all.

Cas blinks, covering his cold eyes for a moment. “No. I have your consent now. I can calm your mind whenever I wish. I can go no further than your dreams however; the rest of your mind is safe. You may retract the consent if you wish, but that would mean that I cannot calm your sleeping mind, or contact you while you were sleeping.”

Dean cocks his head. “Contact me while I’m sleeping?”

“Yes, since I have access to your mind, I can dreamwalk there, and speak to you even if I cannot physically be there.” Cas’ voice is distant, and Dean wonders if being away from him and humanity in general has reverted him back to his original settings.

“Why wouldn’t you be able to be there?” Dean asks, not being able to imagine a scenario where that would be necessary.

Cas looks away, and Dean knows he’s not going to be getting an answer to that question.

“Well you can keep your consent, I guess.” Cas brightens slightly and Dean had to keep himself from smiling. That would go against the plan of not doing anything.

“I will not abuse it,” Cas promises.

“Good.” Dean wrings his hands, not entirely sure how to bring up the next subject. “So um, you never explained to me what the whole handprint thing was about. And we’re in a private place now.”

Cas’s face goes still. “Yes, I could see how you would still be curious about that,” he concedes. “What would you wish to enquire about?”

“Everything?” Dean asks hesitantly. Cas is still acting weird, solid and motionless. He edges closer to the angel and presses his knee gently against Cas’ leg. Cas doesn’t move, but he looks down at the place where they touch for a few seconds before answering.

Cas lets out a breath and looks away. “Very well. You probably wonder why no other angel has healed or teleported any of your teammates but I have you.” At Dean’s nod, he continues. “It is because to perform any act on the body, the soul must consent, completely. I could ask you if you wanted me to heal you, and you could say yes, but your soul would still resist, on the premise that my Grace is foreign.”

“You healed me and you didn’t ask anything though.”

Cas nods, looking crestfallen. “I was just getting to that. However, if an angel implants a tiny piece of their Grace in a human, it shows the soul that we mean no harm, and it lets us do whatever we want with the body.”

Dean is gaping, he can feel it, but he doesn’t think he can control it. “You put a piece of _yourself_ in me? What the hell Cas?” Dean rips his shirt off to show the angel the handprint. “Is that what this is?”

Cas nods slowly. “Yes, that is where I chose to implant my Grace.” He eyes the handprint, and for a second Dean thinks that he’s about to reach out and touch it.

 _Fuck no_. “So let me get this straight. You put a _piece of yourself_ in me, so that you could interact with _my soul_ , and _you didn’t even ask me_ before doing it.”

Cas looks agitated. “You were dying. I did not want to waste the time that I would have needed by asking you and making you understand what it meant. I did not want you to die.”

Dean bites his lip and looks away from Cas. The angel had only been trying to save him, and he hadn’t exactly been in any condition to answer any soul related questions at the time. As much as it is a breach of his privacy and personal space and his… soul… he _had_ been dying. He had to thank the angel for that. Some of the other angels that Dean knows wouldn’t even have thought about doing it.

“It doesn’t… affect me in any way, does it?”

Cas shakes his head. “The only thing that it changes is the fact that I can now interact with your soul. I can reach out to it, and it can reach out to me. I broadcast that I mean no harm, and it lets me do whatever I need. Such things are not needed for higher casts of angels, but I rank fairly low on the celestial command. Other angels can also see that you have a piece of Grace inside you.”

 _So that was why Balthazar was staring at me._ “Really? I’d think that they’d have someone fairly high ranking to interact with us.”

Cas shakes his head. “Most angels perceive humans as far below us. The garrison who was charged to watch over the Earth is the one which they deployed for this mission, and I am only second in command of it.”

Dean shrugs, not too bothered over the whole angels-are-above-everything. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten that message from the other angels. “Then who’s in charge? Zachariah, right?”

“Anael is in charge of our garrison. Zachariah is the angel she reports to.”

Dean rubs a hand over his face. “So who does Zachariah report to?” This is getting complicated.

“Raphael. And Raphael reports to Michael.”

Dean widens his eyes. “Wow. Um, okay then. Heavenly chain of command. There has to be more angels in your garrison though, not just five.”

“There are others, but only five were needed for this work, and Anael chose angels she knows she can trust.”

“Then where are the others?”

“They are completing other tasks on earth.” But Cas looks sad all of a sudden, and Dean doesn’t ask what other tasks they’re completing.

“Right,” Dean says, casting around for another topic. “So where were you anyway?” Dean watches as Cas freezes, and thinks that that is not something he should have asked.

“Just performing tasks that my superiors wished me to do,” Cas says finally. Dean doesn’t push. Cas wouldn’t answer anyway, and Dean doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“That’s a lot of angelic chores.”

“Every angel has duties that they must complete, and ones that our superiors give us.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But wait,” he pauses, looking over at Cas. “What is your mission here? It can’t just be to form friendly relationships with the humans. You’re the only angel who isn’t a dick. Your friends all look liked we’ve personally insulted them just by existing.”

Cas nearly cracks a smile at that, Dean can see it twitching at the corners of his mouth. It sends a wave of happiness through him, that he squashes as soon as he feels it. _Don’t do anything, don’t do anything._

“Some of my brothers dislike completing missions on earth, yes. They prefer the cleanliness and purity of Heaven, instead of being here and feeling the reek that demons leave behind and that humans also make.”

“You’re saying that we smell.” Dean doesn’t know where he expected the conversation to go, but it wasn’t here.

“Demons smell of sulphur, even you know that. Damned humans have a similar smell, but it is less pungent than a demon’s, but there are more humans, so it balances out.”

Dean shakes his head. “Whatever you say. Hey, do you want me to make you some coffee? I’ve got a craving.”

Cas shakes his head. “No. I have to leave.”

“More angel stuff?” Disappointment winds its way through Dean. Cas hadn’t been here for ages, and then he just leaves after an hour or so… It’s annoying, but he can’t make the angel stay. And he definitely doesn’t want the angel to stay. Definitely.

Cas nods. “Yes. More… Angel stuff.”

And with that there is the beating of wings and suddenly he’s alone.

At Bobby’s house. With no transportation. And he hadn’t even given Cas the phone that had been burning a hole in his pocket for the last few months.

“Goddamnit,” Dean mutters, as he pours coffee into his cup after he makes it.

He hopes Bobby doesn’t mind him crashing here for a few days.

A few minutes later, as he walks out to the living room he glances out the window, before pausing and backing up a step to look out it more carefully.

He guards his emotions as he looks at the Impala with his eyebrows lowered.

“Thanks Cas,” he mutters quietly, before going to sit on the couch and waiting for his foster-father to get home.

~*~*~*~

He is confused.

During his re-education, he had confessed nearly everything about Dean. Zachariah had not been happy, but had concluded that it would be suspicious for another angel to take Castiel’s place, and that he thought Dean already trusted him, talking about ‘mud monkeys’ and ‘filthy humans’. Castiel had had a hard time not speaking while Zachariah had spouted off about Dean, but he had known that only more punishment would come if he spoke out of turn. Zachariah had also told him that he should not have bonded with the human until he had sought the permission of Michael, since he is Michael’s to do with as he willed, but because they could not break it, Zachariah would use it to his own ends, to control Dean. Castiel had vowed quietly to himself that that would never happen, but by the end of his time with Zachariah his will was wavering.

It had been horrible, and Castiel had decided that he would never go through it again. Dean and his beautiful soul were not worth it.

Of course, as soon as he had laid eyes on the hunter again, he had felt his resolve beginning to crumble. And when Dean had asked where he had been for the last few months… Castiel had nearly told him. He could feel himself leaning into the brush of the hunters soul as it recognised and acknowledged him, and he felt the small glimmer of the piece of Grace that he had left inside the human flutter and wave. He could see the concern that glimmered in the human’s eyes, and feel the authenticity of it in his soul.

He doubles over, feeling _something_ start to eat at his Grace, what made him an angel, what made him who he is. He doesn’t know what the feeling is, just that he is _feeling._

They told you not to Fall, but they didn’t tell you that Falling _hurts_.

Castiel had left Dean only because he was confused. Confused by what the human was making him feel, and do, and think. He is confused by why the human would affect him; and most of all, he is confused, because he doesn’t understand why his Father would have let this happen. He is an _angel._ He is not meant to feel. And yet he is.

He is sitting on one of the statues outside a cathedral in Rome, somewhere where he had always felt close to his Father. He is trying to receive revelation, but nothing is coming… Just a blank line, a failed connection. He fears that it is only the start of his Fall.

He can feel it coming, looming just where he cannot see it. Even though he had been re-educated, even though he had decided to stay away from Dean… He wants to be near the human, always, tell him everything, keep him safe from everything. His superiors would not like that, with the plans that they have for Dean. It sends a thrill of fear through him, to know that soon he would be… disobeying… and telling Dean what his superiors wanted from him. Castiel knew it was inevitable. Angels are not meant to feel, but he knows that right now he is… And after feeling for the first time, Castiel will not go back to blank nothingness, a perfect, nameless, replaceable solider among millions. He felt because of Dean, he feels for Dean, and he knows that he cannot leave the human now.

 _Disobedience_.

He doesn’t want to think the word, like that will bring his Fall from Grace faster.

Anael finds him there several days later. He has hidden himself from the Host, but not from her. If she had wanted to find him, then she could have, and now she has.

She must have felt his distress, because she comes up to him and wraps him in her Grace. Castiel shudders and clings to the feeling of another angel, one who would love him even if he went through with his plan.

Anael must have known what had happened to him, must have known what he is thinking of doing.

 _Castiel,_ she murmurs quietly. _Castiel, listen to me. You do not have to decide anything yet, but you must stay true to yourself. Do what you feel you need to do._

It’s a parody of how Castiel had talked Anael down from her Fall, all those years ago.

Castiel wonders what his superiors would do if they knew that Anael is encouraging disobedience.

_I cannot let them have him Anael._

_I’ve told you, call me Anna._

_Anna… I cannot let them have him._

Anna wraps her wings around him tighter. Castiel can feel her hesitating. _I believe that he should make his own choice Castiel. The purpose he would serve would benefit all of the humans, now and forever._

Castiel doesn’t say anything for a long time. Anna sits with him as he thinks.

_But the price…_

_Michael would not do something that would have a negative effect on the humans Castiel. He loves them, even as Father commanded._

_But he would hurt one? Take one away? Have his soul_ burned _out of existence?_ Castiel can hear the desperation in his own voice.

Anna pauses before responding. _Yes. For the good of many, he would._

Castiel cannot let it happen. He cannot let Michael take Dean for his own purposes.

 _Anna… I… I don’t want it to happen. I_ cannot _let it happen._

_Then you would take his choice away from him?_

_He does not understand his choice!_ Castiel almost yells, his voice ringing out over the courtyard that they are sitting beside, making some of the people wince and look around for the hurtful sound. The reminder that all angels did was hurt humans makes Castiel curl up into a tighter ball.

 _Then make him understand_ , Anna whispers to him quietly. _Then let him choose._

_But… What if he…_

_What if he chooses to do it?_ Anna sighs soundlessly. _Then you must respect that Castiel. But you have time. Take it. Use it. It should be at least another year before Michael comes to claim him._

 _There has to be another way,_ Castiel says, very softly. He doesn’t want to Fall. He doesn’t want to lose Dean. The human has already made so many changes in the angel in such a short time, and he cannot imagine existing without the soul he is bound to.

Anna doesn’t speak again, but she lets Castiel rest on her for as long as he needs to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm... I promise there will be cute next time?


	9. Sariel's Blade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dean gets an important phone call in the middle of the night, he has to ask Cas to take him somewhere. This leads to the relationship deepening between the two of them, as Castiel realises something important, and does something about it.

_Bring bring, bring bring._

Dean gropes at the bedside table to where his phone is, trying to cut off the annoying sound before it prompts him to kill something.

“Sam it’s three forty seven, exactly thirty minutes after I got home, and also when I got back from work. If you don’t have a good reason for calling me, I will end you,” Dean threatens blearily, looking at the clock next to his head. He needs more than half an hour of sleep.

“Jess is in labour,” Sam says excitedly.

Dean sits up, his tiredness half forgotten. “What? When? How?” He asks, while throwing his clothes on.

“The contractions started an hour ago, and they’ve just taken her into the maternity ward. Dean what if something goes wrong? What if there are complications, and I lose either of them, oh god, I would die, please don’t go wrong, don’t go wrong –”

“Sam!” Dean yells over his brothers frantic talking. “Nothing’s going to go wrong. You’re going to be fine, I promise. I’ll be there as soon as I can. What hospital?”

There’s a pause. “Dean it’ll take you three days to drive here if you don’t sleep.” But he tells Dean where they are anyway.

“That’s why I’m planning on using the angel express,” Dean mutters to himself. Louder, “Just hold tight, okay? Jess will be fine. Both of them are going to be fine.”

Dean can almost picture Sam nodding frantically on the other end of the line. “Okay, they’ll be fine. Okay. Dean they want me in the room,” Sam says hysterically.

“Just go in there. You’ll be fine. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay. Thanks Dean.”

“No problem.”

Sam hangs up and Dean blinks before striding over and turning his light on. He winces at the brightness, and pulls on some jeans and the first shirt his hands touch.

Lacing up his boots, he gets his phone, wallet, and locks his door before standing in the middle of his living room.

He really, really, _really_ wants to be there. Really. But as Sam said, it would take three days to drive, and he doesn’t think he’s up for another flight anytime soon.

So that leaves one option.

He touches the phone in his pocket, the one he still hasn’t given to Cas. He had forgotten every time he’d seen the angel, or Cas had zapped off too quickly for him to say anything about it.

He clears his throat and rubs his hands together, settling for closing his eyes instead of doing anything else associated with praying.

“Uh, to the angel Castiel. From Dean Winchester. If you could swing by my apartment, I’d really appreciate it,” he opens one eye. There isn’t the normal sound of wings beating that accompanies the angels arriving, and he tries again. “I’d owe you one. Really. Um, yeah. Thanks. Dean Winchester.”

“You do not have to say your name twice.”

Dean spins around, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Hey Cas.”

The angel looks normal. As in, normal for him, which means that he’s completely rumpled in a way that makes it look like he’s just finished having a roll in the hay. That is bad imagery. _Get yourself together. It’s just the sleep deprivation._

Cas tilts his head and narrows his eyes slightly. “It is good that you are finally praying. It is a sign of faith.”

Dean shrugs slightly. “Yeah, well, I’m kinda desperate.”

Cas purses his mouth slightly. “You look rather terrible, even for human standards.”

Dean decides that he’s not even going to get into the can of worms that was that one. “Right. Anyway, I really need a lift.”

Cas narrows his eyes. “I am not here for you convenience Dean,” he says lowly.

Dean shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah, I get it. Angelic duties and all that.” But the angel had shown up. That was a step in the right direction. “I just need you to drop me off in DC.” He tells the name of the hospital to Cas. “Jess has gone into labour.”

Cas frowns. “Jess, as in your brother’s chosen sexual partner?”

Dean can’t help but lift his eyebrows at that. “Uh, I’d appreciate it if you never call her that again, but yeah.”

Cas pauses but then nods shallowly. “I should be able to do that.”

Dean breathes out. “Thanks Cas. I really appreciate it.”

Cas walks towards him, and Dean braces himself. Cas reaches up with two fingers, and as they lightly brush over his forehead, Dean feels the earth move around him, something that no one should ever have to experience.

Cas lets Dean lean on his arm for a few seconds after they land. When Dean regains his bearings enough to look around, he realises that they’re in a closet.

He blinks at Cas. “A janitor’s closet?”

“It seemed like a good place to land, allowing you time to recover without danger of anyone seeing us appear suddenly in the middle of a hallway.”

Half of Dean wants to tell Cas how cliché it is to hide out with someone in a closet, but the other half is nudging him and reminding him that most of the time the people who hide in janitor’s closets go there to make out. Suddenly feeling a bit hot, Dean clears his throat.

“Is there anyone outside?”

Cas pauses and tilts his head. “Not at the moment.”

“Great,” Dean mutters, pushing the door open and closing it after Cas leaves. “Do you know where Jess and Sam are?”

“They are in the hallway above us, but access there is restricted.”

As Cas says it, an ear splitting scream echoes down from the above floor. Dean only just recognises the sound as Jess.

“Jesus,” he mutters. “Is she okay?”

“Do not blaspheme. Jessica is a healthy female. Her birth will go well.”

Cas’s reassurance does little to calm his nerves. He walks down the hall until he comes to a waiting room. There are several older couples, and several worried looking men inside it.

“Is this the waiting room for the maternity ward?” He asks one of the men. The guy looks up at him and nods jerkily.

“Yeah. Talk to her,” he says, pointing at a woman behind a desk, “If you want to try and get upstairs.”

Dean thanks him and walks over to the woman. She looks up at him, unimpressed.

“You have someone that you want to see?” She asks, uninterestedly.

Jess screams again. “Yes. Jessica Winchester. The one currently screaming her head off. I’m not sure I’d be appreciated inside right now, but if you could tell my brother that I’m here, I’d be grateful.”

“The tall one with long hair?”

Dean grimaces but nods. The lady smiles slightly, and Dean thanks his brother’s habit of making everyone around him like him. “I’ll see what I can do, but I don’t think interruptions would be welcome right now.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, I get that. Thank you.”

Cas is still standing there when Dean turns around. He blinks, surprised, but not unhappy.

“I thought you had your heavenly duties to attend to,” Dean says as he walks back over to Cas. The angel regards him dispassionately.

“I have none at the current moment.”

Dean smiles slightly. “Cool. You can wait here. If you want,” he hurriedly adds, when Cas tilts his head slightly.

“I would like that,” the angel eventually says.

“Good,” Dean replies, letting out a breath of air. “That’s good.”

If Dean had been worried that he wouldn’t get here in time, he was wrong. The hours tick by, and the people around him come and go. He finds himself drowsing, the night with no sleep catching up with him. The fact that he’d hardly slept last night, or the one before either isn’t helping.

To distract himself, he digs inside his pocket and gives Cas the phone. He spends a good hour trying to explain how it works, but the angel just looks at him and it quizzically the entire time.

“I think I understand which buttons to press,” Cas eventually says. Dean lets out a sigh of relief.

“Good. You’ll get better with practise. Don’t worry about it.” Dean covers his mouth as a large yawn escapes. Cas watches him, his unnatural stillness betraying him and broadcasting that he isn’t human.

“You should sleep,” Cas tells him, his gravelly voice soft in the waiting room.

“Nah, I’ll just go and grab some more coffee.”

“Jessica and Sam will be fine for another few hours.”

Dean sets his jaw stubbornly. “Cas, I’m fine.”

The angel regards him, something moving in his bright blue eyes. Dean raises his eyebrows at the angel, daring him to say anything else.

But even though Cas doesn’t comment on the issue, a few minutes later Dean finds himself slouching on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion claims him.

~*~*~*~

Castiel looks at the man resting against him. Dean’s eyes flicker in his sleep, and the dawning sun begins to christen his cheeks, making the skin glow and his freckles stand out in sharp relief against the tanned brown expanse of his face.

He moves his leg slightly so that it presses lightly against Dean’s, similar to what the hunter had done at Bobby’s house. The feeling of the hunter’s lax form against him is more comforting than it should be.

He lightly touches against the piece of Grace in the man’s soul, and feels it become aware of him. Dean’s soul flickers and welcomes him, and Castiel feels something lift inside him. Souls do not lie.

He wings bristle slightly when he sees the black that had accumulated at the edges of Dean in his absence. He banishes as much as he can, but too much remains for Castiel’s liking. He stops a dream before it can begin to form, and leaves the human’s mind to its rest.

Flicking his feathers out to resettle them and make them comfortable to sit there for a while, Castiel comes back to his vessel. The emptiness inside makes it hard to settle for a few seconds, the absence of Jimmy’s soul unsettling. Castiel has never inhabited a vessel without a soul inside of it, and he feels himself bonding to the flesh around him, without the barrier of the soul between himself and it.

Anna asks for his location again, but he brushes her off with a reassurance, telling her that he is okay. She hovers at the edge of his mind for a second before departing.

He checks on Jessica in the hall above them. She is approaching the end of her labour, he decides. He checks on her health and the baby’s health. Jessica is fine, and the young girl’s soul sparkles with new life. It leaves him in awe of his Father’s creations.

Dean shifts against him, and Castiel brings his attention back to the human. Frowning, he disintegrates the atoms holding the arm of the chair together, and joins the two cushions to make a combined seat. Pulling Dean up against him, he holds him in sleep until he is sure that Dean will not wake of his own accord. He carefully curls his arm around Dean, and then waits as Dean moves and settles himself more firmly against him, putting his head on Castiel’s shoulder.

Castiel blinks, wondering why the warmth of the hunter feels so good.

He kept Dean sleeping until he is sure that Jessica could receive visitors. Dean had slept from five to nine, and while that is less sleep than Castiel wants him to have had, it will have to do for now.

He lets Dean wake the next time a sound goes through the corridor. The hunter jerks slightly, and instinctively tries to stand. Castiel keeps him where he is until he realises where he is.

“Cas,” Dean hisses to him. “What did you do? It’s past nine!”

“You needed rest. Whenever something that would have woken you occurred, I stopped you from hearing it. Sam and Jessica can now receive visitors. Your niece was born at six thirty four this morning.”

Dean pulls out of his grip, and Castiel feels a pang of something in his chest. It gnaws at his Grace slightly, and he stops his vessel’s breathing to try and confine it.

“Cas? Are you okay? You’re staring at nothing, and it’s freaking me out a little.”

Castiel shakes his head slightly and takes a breath. “I am fine. Are we going to see your brother and his family?”

Dean nods, something passing behind his eyes. Castiel is not good enough at reading human emotion yet to know what it is.

“Okay. Where are they?”

“They moved rooms an hour ago.” Castiel stands, and resists the urge to fly to his destination. Using his vessel for travel is taxing and takes far too long, but Dean would not appreciate the trip.

So he waits with the human at the elevator, moving slightly closer to him with each breath. He stops the thumping of his heart for a few seconds in reprimand to it, but it ignores him when it starts again. Castiel wonders if all angels experience such loss of control, or it is only because he is standing so very close to Dean.

Castiel had been spending more time with the hunter than he had with Samandriel or Uriel. He still kept in almost hourly contact with Anna, and Balthazar is his closest friend. But other than those two angels, he had been spending more time with Dean than his own kin.

It had started after he left Anna in Rome. He had come back to America to find that almost a week had passed. He had found Dean by the distinctive pattern of his soul, and the piece of his Grace inside it, and had settled himself down to watch the human at his desk.

Then the urge to appear and talk with the human started. He had shaken himself. Angels do not interact; they watch, and they guard.

But still the urge remained. And just as he had decided he would appear in the office, Dean had stood up and left.

Balthazar had been in the room the entire afternoon, and invited Castiel to leave with him. Castiel could not, in good grace, refuse to leave with him, especially after being gone for a week. Balthazar had seen nothing wrong with Castiel simply watching Dean all afternoon, as that is what angels do. Watch.

The next day he stood next to the human for a few hours. Dean typed away on his computer, but every now and then he would look over in the general direction where Castiel was standing, while frowning slightly. Castiel would lower his brows but Dean would go back to his work shortly after.

Reasoning that Dean still had to do his work, and would be uncomfortable with Castiel simply standing there and watching him, Castiel flew to Heaven and retrieved one of the tomes from the first War. He then appeared silently in the office, sitting in the cubicle next to Dean, opening the book and reading through the Enochian writing there.

Dean got up half an hour later. He blinked, looking at Cas.

“When did you get here?” Dean asked.

“I have been here for several hours,” Castiel replied.

Dean looked like he didn’t know how to reply, so he went and got his drink, and returned to his desk.

The next day Castiel had been sitting there with another book when Dean came in. The human looked surprised that he was there, but over the course of the day he made several comments and questions aimed at the angel.

The day after Dean spoke with him almost continually, and Castiel read little of his book.

The day after was similar.

Castiel found himself falling into a routine with the hunter. He would arrive, and Dean would greet him happily in the morning. After doing any work Rufus had assigned to him, Dean would tease him – or at least the angel though he was being teased; humans were so strange with their different behaviours. He would make as many pop culture references as he could, and Castiel would try to navigate through them. Rufus would then yell at Dean to stop wasting time, and to get back to work. Dean would smirk at him and go back to his desk for another few hours, before making up some excuse to get out of the office. Krissy even remarked that he was making her job easy, since he was doing half of the fetching around the office for her.

Castiel would accompany him, because they were partners. Dean would take the longest route around the city, not taking the Impala or letting Castiel fly him anywhere. Dean would show him parts of the city, and Castiel would quietly marvel at the quiet capability and health of the soul next to him. He was seeing improvement in Dean’s soul, but that was just because he was banishing what darkness he could to stop it from making Dean worse. Without the added hindrance of the continually amassing darkness, Dean’s soul could heal its wounds easier. Castiel was also patrolling Dean’s sleeping mind when he could, making sure that the hunter was not troubled by dreams.

He had told Dean what he was doing to his soul one day. Dean had looked at him uneasily.

“Look, Cas, I’m grateful. I know that you’ve been making me sleep peacefully, but I’d appreciate it if you told me earlier that you were doing weird stuff with my soul.”

“I would think that it is the equivalent of anti-depressant drugs without the side effects. They help with your PTSD.”

Dean gapes at him. “You put me on the angelic equivalent of meds?” He asks, stunned. “And I do not have PTSD,” he hisses.

Castiel does not react. “I can stop if you wish. However, if you have me stop, your soul will cloud and will not continue to heal.”

Dean had shifted on his feet, looking away. There was a long pause, and Castiel knew enough about humans to recognise that it was far longer than any normal pause in conversation. He also knew enough not to speak until Dean did.

“Don’t stop,” he gruffly said. “But don’t do anything else.”

A stab of pain went through Castiel’s Grace, but he covered his reaction from Dean, spending a moment with his wings tensed as he waited it out. A rush of feeling followed the pain. He felt relieved and happy and triumphant and proud. He let out a breath.

Dean smiled at him for a second, barely an uplift of one corner of his mouth. “Let’s go back to the office.”

Castiel nodded, and reached out with his hand to brush against Dean’s forehead lightly. Just before he made contact Dean fluttered his eyes shut. Castiel wrapped his Grace around his soul, keeping it safe while he transported the atoms that made up Dean’s body back to the office.

Dean knocks lightly on the door of Jessica’s room. Sam opens the door, and his eyes widen at the sight of his brother.

“Dean! You’re here!”

“I’ve been here since three o’clock actually. Angel transport, right?”

Sam looks at him, wonder filling his eyes. “You’re… Castiel?”

Castiel nods. “Yes. Dean was concerned about you and your wife, so he asked me to transport him here so he could see you.”

Sam grins at his brother. “Really? You called in a favour?”

“Whatever,” Dean growls. “How’s Jess?”

Sam’s face softens. “She’s good. And so is the baby.”

Dean smiles. “Can I come in, or are we just going to stand in the hallway?”

Sam blushes slightly. “Of course,” he says, opening the door. “But Jess is sleeping.”

Dean walks in, and when Sam keeps the door open, looking at him expectantly, Castiel follows.

Dean walks over to Jess and watches her for a second. Then he goes to the small crib next to the bed.

Sam watches his brother, still smiling softly. Dean gently touches a finger to her face.

“Meet Alicia Rose Winchester,” Sam says quietly. Dean nods, touching a finger to the soft blonde curls at the top of her head.

“She beautiful,” Dean says.

“I know,” Sam replies. “I know.”

“She’ll get her smarts from her mum, and her good looks from her uncle. I don’t know what she’ll get from you,” Dean says, shaking his head. “Maybe the ability to do the puppy eyes?”

Sam smiles. “If she can do the puppy eyes, then we’re all screwed.”

Dean nods. “Seconded.”

Dean goes and sits on one side of Jessica, and Sam on the other. Castiel stands in the corner of the room, listening to the brother’s talk. Dean tells him about what was going on in the office, and Sam tells Dean about his own work, which Castiel learns is a firm of supernatural lawyers.

He is there for about an hour before Anna contacts him.

_Castiel, I need you here._

Castiel blinks at the command, but shakes out his wings, preparing to fly.

“Dean, Anna is calling for me. When you desire to return to Phoenix, either call or pray to me.”

Dean turns around in his chair. “Okay Cas. See you later.”

Castiel nods at them both before following Anna’s call back to the source, worry spiking in him when he feels the desperation in her voice. _Anna? What is wrong?_

_Zachariah called me. He wants to talk about how our mission is progressing on earth._

Castiel felt his feathers bristling. _He will ask about Dean. You know what he said about him when last we spoke._

_I know. Do not worry, I will not make you take advantage of Dean._

Castiel does not tell her that that is what he is worried about. She can push their superiors too far sometimes, and this is the sort of issue she would take a stand on.

_Come. He will be impatient._

Castiel follows her to where Zachariah’s Grace is blaring out a calling signal. He lands next to the leader of his garrison, and bows his head, politely fading into the background so they can talk.

Anna reports on how Rachel and Hestor had retrieved two ingredients needed for the spell, and that Hael had killed several demons before they could locate the second piece of the key. Unfortunately she had not known how they were going to locate it, so she could not perform the spell herself. Zachariah expresses his displeasure at this, and Castiel tries not to cower.

Anna finished by speaking of the deaths that they had suffered while trying to retrieve the key, and how they needed more angels to fill the spaces in the garrison. Zachariah did not like that at all.

 _With Raziel’s death and Gabriel’s desertion, we are low on power. You_ know _this Anael. You_ know _we can’t just replace angels. But we need our garrisons at full strength, especially the ones on earth that are the first line of defence against demons. So, I suppose I can arrange something._

 _I might believe that you valued our garrison if you had not sent half of them to their deaths while trying to retrieve the piece of the key._ Anna says it lowly, but Castiel’s Grace quivers, and his wings fold against him as he tries to blend into the background.

_The key is essential to our plan against the demons._

Anna trembles with anger beside him. Castiel tries to be still.

_At the cost of how many angelic lives?_

_The cost does not matter to me._

_The cost matters to me. They were_ my _soldiers. They died under_ my _watch._

_They died under Castiel’s watch. If you have an issue, you should talk to him about it._

_I have no issue with Castiel. My issue is with you._

Castiel looks fearfully at his leader. She had crossed a line, and he does not know what Zachariah would do about it.

The other angel pauses. Then, very slowly, he wraps his Grace around Anna, so she cannot escape. _I see. Then perhaps Castiel could tell you the best parts of re-education._

Anna trembles, but does not relent. _What you did was wrong._

Castiel tenses. Why is she not letting it rest? Zachariah is fine with any angel, as long as they complete their tasks efficiently, and Anna is one of the best leaders. Making a point is not worth re-education.

_Very well. Castiel, you are to take Anael’s place while she is… otherwise occupied._

Castiel looks at Anna desperately, but she shakes her head slightly, pressing her wings against his.

 _Yes Zachariah,_ Castiel says, after a pause.

_Good. Anael, come with me._

Anna follows the other angel reluctantly, and Castiel watches them both, trying to fight down his misery. He cannot let the Host feel that.

Castiel reluctantly wings his way back to earth to tell the rest of the angels he is now leader of that Anna had been taken to re-education. Uriel and Samandriel murmur the most, and Rachel’s Grace is humming contentedly at the promotion. She is now the official second in command.

Castiel organises them, and sends out Sariel to guard the human child they have chosen for the spell, and Vaveal to guard their second chosen child, who is there as a backup.

The rest of the garrison know their duties, and soon Castiel is the only one left where they had been meeting. He flies towards the comforting feeling of Dean’s soul, and finds him curled up under the blankets in Sam’s house. They must not allow overnight visitors at the hospital.

The urge to curl up beside Dean comes to him, but he does not act on it. Instead, he sends Dean into a deeper sleep to stop any nightmares, and checks on Sam. He is sleeping deeply as well. He checks on Jessica and Alicia. Frowning, he corrects a genetic problem that would have affected the child in the later years of her life. Satisfied, he flits through the hospital, doing nothing for the older or weaker, but making sure all of the children are at rest. He cures the cough one child has that had been keeping his mother up for the last two nights, and the ear infection of another. With nothing else to do, he goes back to Dean.

The hunter has not moved in the ten minutes Castiel has been gone. The angel settles on the floor beside the bed, waiting for the hunter to wake in the morning.

~*~*~*~

Dean wakes up and lies on his side for a second, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth as he yawns. Turning over in the bed, he’s rubbing his face when he sees Cas.

He freezes, with his mouth slightly open and probably looking ridiculous while pushing half his face around and staring at Cas. The angel looks back at him calmly, apparently not understanding how weird it is to just sit next to someone while they sleep.

“Cas?” Dean slurs, trying to untangle himself from the sheets and stand up hurriedly, but ends up falling on top of Cas instead. He tries to hide his blush, standing up. The angel stands as well, not batting an eye at Dean’s half-dressed state. Dean is more affected by the situation than the angel appears to be. “How long have you been there?”

“Since about three o’clock this morning.” Dean rubs his eyes and focuses on the angel, noticing the troubled look the angel is wearing. He isn’t looking at Dean, just at the bed, and there are crease lines etched into his forehead. Suddenly worried, Dean reaches out to grab Cas’s arm.

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice full of concern. Cas looks up at him before sighing quietly. “What happened with Anna?”

He wouldn’t normally ask about the angel’s affairs, but now that he was looking, Cas looks terrible. If he had to make a comparison, he’d say the angel looks like he didn’t get any sleep.

“Many things happened last night,” the angel says softly. Dean looks over at the time. It’s just before eight. Sam is probably up.

Dean draws Cas back to the bed, sitting down and pulling Cas down with him. The angel bows his head and looks at the ground. Dean moves slightly closer, hating himself for wanting to touch the angel, even as something was clearly wrong. Over the last month there had been talking, but not much touching. The office is not the place for that, and Dean hadn’t been able to fulfil his need to lay his hands on the dark haired man sitting beside him.

“Hey. Tell me what’s going on.”

Cas looks up at him, his normally vibrant blue eyes dull. “Anna called me because Zachariah wanted a report about our activities on earth, and as second in command of our garrison, I needed to be there as well.” Dean nods. That makes sense.

“Anna reported, but… it was not what Zachariah wanted to hear. Our garrison is running low on numbers, lately.” Cas adds, softer. “Demons have become stronger. Anna wanted reinforcements, and accused Zachariah of not caring about the angels that did most of the work, and that he let them die without caring.”

Dean raises his eyebrows at that. “I can’t imagine him taking that well.”

“He did not.”

Dean waits for a second, but Cas doesn’t elaborate. “What happened next?”

Cas looks away. “Zachariah gave Anna several chances to apologize and take back what she said. No angel can fault him for what he did.”

Dean feels his stomach begin to churn. “Cas? What happened?”

Cas swallows. “He took her away. For re-education.” He says the last sentence in a whisper, as if it were one of the worst things that could happen, and that you could bring it down on you by simply talking about it.

Dean bites his lip. He doesn’t want to ask, but he has to understand. “What’s re-education?”

Cas doesn’t answer for a few minutes. Then, when he speaks, Dean can tell that he is not meant to be telling him anything about this.

“It is where disobedient angels go. They are trained to work as part of the Host once more there, to care for nothing and obey their superiors. But Anna was a leader; she needs some amount of ability to think for herself so she can make decisions in the battle field. But she pushed it too far.” Cas shakes his head slowly. “I wonder if I will ever see her again, or if they will simply decide to terminate her, and save the trouble she creates.”

Dean stares at Cas uneasily. Is that what goes on upstairs? Carefully, he puts an arm around the angel, and Cas leans into his touch slightly.

“What the big deal about disobeying?” Dean asks quietly.

Cas trembles slightly, and Dean feels a stab of foreboding. “Angels are made to obey, Dean. What do you think is the consequence of an angel going against what they are?”

Dean looks at the dark haired man uneasily, but doesn’t reply. Cas still isn’t looking at him.

“I am the leader of the garrison now. I will not have the time to be around so often. And I must inform Joanna about her partner.”

Dean hadn’t realised what this meant for Jo. “Anna’s going to be okay, right? I mean, she’s a good leader, isn’t she?”

Cas nods slightly. “One of the best. That is why I hold onto the hope that they will spare her.”

Dean tightens his grip around the angel. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You have no statistical evidence to support that,” Cas says. “There is no reason to be saying it.”

“But it made you feel better, didn’t it?” Dean asks softly. Cas hesitates, and Dean has his answer in that. “It’s going to fine. Everything’s going to turn out okay.”

Cas finally looks at him, turning large, blue eyes on him. They’re filled with fear, and something else, and Dean suddenly realises that this is more than him simply worried about Anna.

“You cannot know that,” Cas says, and then stands, shrugging off Dean’s arm even though the hunter tries to keep it around him. “You do not know what is coming,” he says, and then there’s the rustle of feathers, and Dean is alone in the room.

“Fuck,” he curses, looking at the place where Cas was standing only a few seconds before. “Damnit Cas,” he says, quieter. “You need to tell me what’s wrong, so I can help you fix it.”

But the room stays empty, and Cas doesn’t reappear.

~*~*~*~

Dean doesn’t see Cas for another few weeks. He flies home after the angel doesn’t answer either his phone or a prayer, and Dean is not calling either more than once. Jess is healthy, happy and thriving. So is Alicia.

He spends some time on a ghoul case, and helps Garth and Ash with a changeling problem. Nothing too strenuous.

He thinks about Cas, even though he doesn’t see him. It takes him a week to get over his worry, and examine the cause of it. He isn’t very surprised when he realises that even though he’s been trying to ignore his feelings for Cas, they’ve grown.

So he decides that he’ll stop ignoring them, and do something about it. What that something is, he isn’t sure of, but he’s sure when the moment comes to him, he’ll realise it.

He doesn’t see the other angels either. Jo isn’t allowed much call time, and Dean has to pull a few favours to get her on the line. She tells him that Cas had come and told her that Anna wouldn’t be around for a few months, and not to worry about it. Apparently the angel had disappeared without saying goodbye.

Dean hears his phone buzzing, and groans, not wanting to wake up. He fumbles around on the table beside the bed for a few seconds before picking it up. He squints at the screen. Rufus’ caller ID was on it.

“What’s up?” Dean asks blearily. It’s half past four in the morning. Why is Rufus calling at half past four in the morning?

“There’s been a crash in a town you’re near. Kerrville.”

“Rufus, I’m still in San Antonio,” Dean grumbles. But he quickly begins packing his things, getting ready to leave. He checks out of the hotel while still on the phone.

“The crash was called in, and recommended to us.”

“What’s weird about it?” Dean asks, getting into the Impala.

“It’s a nineteen car pileup. That’s not something that usually happens in a town of its size.”

“You can say that again,” Dean sighs. “I’ll be there in half an hour or so.”

“You’re gonna have to break some speed limits on this one boy. There’s only so much we can do to stop anything or anyone disturbing the scene.”

“And possibly getting eaten by whatever caused it. Yeah. But at this time of night, there’s probably not that many people out.”

“Still. Hurry.”

Rufus hangs up. Dean throws the phone onto the seat beside him and speeds up.                                  

~*~*~*~

The first time Dean sees a dead angel, he isn’t expecting it.

It’s a blonde girl in her late teens, wearing nothing but a white shift. There’s blood leaking from the wound in her throat, which looks like it goes all the way through her neck. The nineteen cars had turned into twenty three when several of them caught on fire. Ambulances and fire trucks are there, and Dean trusts them to take care of the civilians. He had flashed his badge a few times, and that is enough to get him onto the main scene.

Even in his books this is a little weird. But then he sees the person in the tan trench coat leaning over the body. By the way that no one else is reacting, he has to assume that he’s the only one who can see Cas. He slowly approaches the kneeling figure, drinking in the sight of the angel. When his flashlight outlines the silhouette of wings on the ground he hears himself take in a shallow breath.

“Cas? Do you want me to clear all these people?” Dean asks, his voice low. Even he might get kicked off the scene for talking to thin air.

“No Dean. It is fine.” Cas’ voice is lower and more gravely than normal, but it’s the thread of raw grief underneath it that makes him start to worry.

“Okay,” he says, knowing that it’s not okay, “Do you need to do anything with her body? Do you want to do anything to the scene?” Dean has no idea if there is any holy protocol to follow here, so he’s just playing it easy, making sure that he doesn’t cross any lines.

“No Dean. Sariel’s vessel holds nothing of her form now,” Cas says sadly.

Dean is still staring at the burned scorch marks of the dead angel’s wings. They’re still there, and Dean wonders if they will ever fade. “Do you all go out like that?” He asks softly.

Cas hesitates before answering. “If we are killed by an angel blade, then yes, in our dying moment our exploding Grace burns through our wings and imprints their image onto the surface on which they rest.”

Feeling shitty for asking angel questions while Cas is grieving, Dean grabs Cas’ arm, and Cas lets himself be pulled up. “Hey. Look at me.” Dean might as well have been talking to empty air for all the good it does.

Cas turns and Dean can do nothing to stop him, because he had put his strength behind that movement. He once more kneels beside the fallen angel. “Goodbye sister,” Cas mumbles, and Dean has half a second to feel bad for intruding on the moment before Cas touches the body, and it disappears. Dean has no idea how he’s going to explain that one to the police, but he’s going to have to try.

“Wait… You said, an angel blade?”

“No demon did this,” Cas says, and Dean can hear the quiet anger in his voice. “An angel has been supplying demons with angel blades for a while, and I cannot smell any sulphur nearby,” Cas’s voice is loaded, and he is staring at the place where the female angel had been. “Wait here.”

Cas disappears. Dean shines his light over where the angel had been. The wings are still there.

Cas appears a few minutes later. “The child Sariel was guarding is gone. Dead, or taken, it matters not. Vaveal was guarding the second child. He is dead as well, and his child gone.” Castiel shakes his head and continues in a quieter voice. “There are only fourteen of us left, now. I fear that before this is over, there will be far less.”

“Before what is over?” Dean asks, looking at the angel.

Cas blinks at him, seeming to realise that Dean was there. “Nothing,” he murmurs. “I grieve.” He flicks his wrist, and suddenly there’s a silver blade in it. “This was Sariel’s. She was a fine fighter, and her style matches yours quite well. The sword will fight for you.” He holds it out to Dean, and he takes it carefully. The blade is silver, with three sides and a sharp tip.

“An… angel blade?” He asks gingerly.

“Do not tell anyone else I gave it to you. It can kill angels. It targets their Grace, not their physical form.”

Dean feels a rush of goosebumps go over his arms. He had a thing in his hands that could kill an angel. _An angel._

“Are you sure you should give this to me?” Dean asks gingerly, sliding it up his sleeve.

“You made several things clear to me the last time we spoke. I am trying to prevent a few of them before they even occur,” Cas sighs. Then he looks at Dean searchingly. “You know how to wield a blade, yes?”

“It was never my favourite weapon, but yeah. I can fight with one if I need to.”

Cas frowns. “We will have to rectify that. Be in your apartment before eleven tonight.”

Dean widens his eyes at the angel. “I’m probably not even going to be home before midnight! I still have to fix the situation here, and then drive back!”

Cas tilts his head. Suddenly all the cars stop their alarms, and the cars that are on fire go out easily under the hoses of the firefighters. Several of the cars creak as they separate from each other and the metal bends back into shape. The oil and petrol disappear from the ground, and several confused looking people climb back into their cars and drive away. The police officers dismiss everyone, and within a minute, there’s hardly anyone left on the scene.

“Good enough?” Cas asks, sounding annoyed. Dean shuts his mouth and nods slowly.

“Ah, yeah, that’ll do.”

“Good.” And then Cas’s fingers are against his forehead, his vision goes black, and he feels the sickening weightlessness that accompanies Cas flying him somewhere.

“Umph.” Dean hits the ground with his knees bent, as he had learned to do. Cas regards him impassively, watching him try to regain control over his stomach, which seems intent on empting itself onto his shoes. Looking around, Dean realises that they’re in the office. “Ah, thanks for bringing me here.”

“The Impala is in its resting place beneath this building.”

“Whoa, Cas, you didn’t need to. I could have driven here.”

Cas shrugs. “Just be at your apartment before eleven.”

The angel disappears, and Dean shakes his head. He knocks on Rufus’s office, and the older man looks shocked when Dean walks in. “Dean? How… I’m never going to get used to you and Castiel flapping your way around.”

Dean smiles slightly. Rufus lets him go home, and he sleeps until the afternoon. Then he heads back into the office, remembering Cas’s words about being in his apartment. Rufus hands him a stack of paperwork that has to be cleared up about the changelings, and Dean groans. There is enough for three people here, and Ash and Garth aren’t here yet.

Still, he sets in determinedly, getting his and half of Ash’s done before ten thirty.

He hands the completed and uncompleted forms back to Rufus, who looks at him in confusion.

“What’s going on?”

“Those are done, those are not. I’m going home, see you tomorrow.”

Rufus glares at him. “You aren’t going home until these are done.”

Dean flashes him a smile as he’s walking out. “Heavenly orders, sorry! Cas wanted me back before eleven, and I’m going to cut it close.”

He has enough time to see Rufus’s surprised face before the door swings shut.

Dean says goodnight to Krissy, who looks confused as he walks out. There’s more people than he normally sees while going home, and the drive there is longer than usual as well.

Dean unlocks his door, and walks into his apartment, flicking the lights on. It’s just after eleven, and he can’t see Cas anywhere.

He puts his bag down, and stretches. He loosens his tie and shrugs off his jacket, before taking off his buttoned up shirt and belt.

Changing into jeans and a tee shirt, Dean turns and blinks. Cas is watching him silently, and Dean isn’t sure how long the angel has been there.

Flustered, but trying not to show it, Dean raises an eyebrow. “Most people knock.”

“I flew past the door. How was I supposed to knock on it?”

“The door there would have been fine,” Dean grumbles. Cas follows him out of his bedroom and into the lounge. “Anyway, why did you want me here?”

“You have a studio for practising your fighting techniques, correct?”

Dean frowns. “Yeah, it was meant to be the second bedroom, but I live here alone.” He nods towards a closed door.

“Good.” The angel says, going towards it and opening the door. The lights inside it flick on without Cas touching anything.

Dean stands in the doorway as Cas starts moving stuff around, creating a larger space in the middle of the room. Dean stares bemusedly as he picks up the treadmill with one hand and moves it into the corner. Before long, there’s an open space in the middle of the room.

“You are going to have to ward your apartment against angels.”

“But then you can’t get in,” Dean protests.

“I can change the symbols so they do not include me.”

Cas puts a piece of paper he pulled out of nowhere on the table, and hesitates for a second before drawing a symbol onto the page. “Put that up in your blood on the northernmost, southernmost and easternmost walls. They will protect this place.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Okay, angelic protection down. Now what?”

Cas turns to him. “Where is the blade I gave you?”

Dean goes over to his armoury and opens the doors. He picks up the sword, and turns around to show it to Cas.

Cas frowns. “First lesson, keep it with you. Always.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Okay then.” He sticks it through a belt loop. “I’ll need to grab a sheath for it, but yeah, I’ll carry it everywhere.”

Cas nods, and suddenly the weight at his hip is slightly heavier. He looks down at the plain leather sheath encasing the blade. “You know, you can’t keep spoiling me like this Cas. Flying me around, giving me presents… I’d get used to it.”

Cas gives him an exasperated look. “You need that. Angels are unlike any opponent you have faced before Dean. If you lose Sariel’s sword, there are very few other things that can kill or injure us, and most of them are angels more powerful than the angel that is your opponent. We can fly,” he says, and appears behind Dean’s back, with his own sword digging lightly into his shirt. “And we can smite.”

Dean remembers how Cas got rid of the shape shifter, and shifts his weight uneasily.

“Your only advantage will be that they will underestimate you. Most angels will not fly during a fight, and that is because their wings are exposed. Because you are human, you could not take advantage of that weakness, but they have been trained over thousands of years how to fight, and they will not deviate from their normal routine. But even so,” Cas continues, before he hauls Dean up and over his shoulder with apparently no effort, and no consideration to Dean’s protests. “We are stronger than you, physically.” He sets Dean down. “Punch me.”

“What?” Dean says, stunned from being pushed around by the angel. “I’m not punching you.”

“Do it.” Cas tilts his head slightly. “Consider it a part of your practise.”

Dean frowns, and shifts slightly, but pulls back his hand and punches Cas square in the jaw, thinking he’d get some sort of recoil.

There isn’t any. It’s like punching a brick wall, and he swears, cradling his hand close to his chest. “Cas, what the fuck was that for?” He groans, feeling his hand throb.

“You won’t be tempted to punch an angel now. Trust me, it will do no good.”

Dean looks at him, outraged. Cas looks back calmly. Dean lets out an annoyed huff. “Well thanks for the warning,” he says sarcastically.

Cas spends some time demonstrating several manoeuvres with the angel blade, giving Dean some time to recover. But when he suggests sparring with the real blade, Dean refuses.

“It could _kill_ you Cas. I’m not doing it.”

“The whole point of this is that I am trying to prepare you if you fight an angel. I am an angel, and you will not be able to touch me yet.”

“I’m not doing it,” Dean flatly refuses. They argue for another ten minutes before Cas creates a sword with the same weight as the real thing, but made of something that wouldn’t kill angels. He assures Dean by sticking it through his hand, which does not reassure him at all.

“Jesus, I know you’re indestructible, but don’t flaunt it.”

Cas frowns at him. “Angels are not indestructible Dean.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, I know.” He doesn’t voice his worries about Cas not being indestructible.

“Are you ready?” Cas asks.

Dean nods. “Yeah.”

The angel vanishes. Dean looks around, carefully trying to figure out where he would come from. There’s a sound behind him, and Cas appears. Dean raises his fake-sword to block, staggering under the pressure Cas puts behind it.

“You cannot match my strength Dean,” Cas counsels, as they circled each other. “You have to try a different approach. Brute force will win over no angel.”

Luckily, Dean had trained for the majority of his life against creatures that are stronger than he is.

Cas leaps at him again, and Dean blocks again, this time trying to quickly strike out at the angel. Cas jumps back slightly, dodging him. Taking advantage of the angel’s backwards momentum, Dean dives at him, trying to land a hit. Cas moves swiftly to the side and hits his back, making him overbalance and fall to the ground. Dean rolls, standing up swiftly, barely able to avoid Cas’ next attack.

Cas is fast, unnaturally so. Dean can hardly keep up with the angel’s movements, and he has a sneaking suspicion that Cas isn’t going full out. Cas knocks him over again, and he rolls to find his back to the wall.

Cas’ blade is suddenly at his throat. Dean doesn’t move, looking the angel in the eyes.

Cas’ blue eyes are searching his, with his brows lowered. The angel isn’t touching him, leaving Dean space enough to move if he wants to cut his own throat.

“Not terrible for your first fight with the sword,” Cas says, stepping back. “But another angel won’t stop.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says, rubbing his neck where the cool metal of the blade had been touching him. “So what, you’re going to teach me?”

“If you’re willing to learn,” Cas replies. Dean looks at him for a moment before nodding.

Cas lunges at him again, and Dean jumps out of the way. He gets Cas back into the centre of the room, where he has more room to manoeuvre, and circles the angel slowly, looking for a weakness. Cas is watching him, eyes taking in everything.

They clash again, Dean spinning around Cas’s sword, and getting nicked for his troubles. He tries to sneak in a hit, but Cas deflects it by smacking his arm away with his spare hand. Dean tries for another, but it rips through the edge of Cas’s trench coat instead of hitting the angel.

The fight for another few minutes before Cas ‘kills’ him again. The angel gives him a minute to breathe before he starts the fight again.

By the time Dean calls time, he’s covered in sweat. Cas looks as impeccable as always.

“Fuck you’re good,” Dean says as he wipes sweat away. “It can’t just be because you’ve got superior strength.”

Cas smiles slightly. “You are right. I am one of the best fighters with our blades in the Host.”

Dean sits, leaning against the wall. “I knew it.” He lets out a sigh before peering up at the angel. “What’s the time?”

“After midnight,” Cas responds quietly. He walks over and seems to deliberate for a second before sitting. Dean smirks at the way Cas gets caught up in his trench coat. The angel frowns, before blinking. The trench coat appears, neatly folded, beside him.

“Aw, come on Cas. If you’re gonna lose the coat, you can’t wear this,” Dean says, plucking at the black jacket. “Or the tie,” Dean tells him.

Cas frowns, and they appear on top of the coat.

“That’s better,” Dean says, looking Cas over. The angel is a lot thinner than he had thought he was, divested of his coats and tie. Cas has his head tilted, watching him. Dean flushes slightly and looks away.

“Anyway,” he continues. “I don’t usually get back here until about two or three. So… want to tell me why you’re suddenly afraid that I’m going to be fighting against angels?” Dean had held his tongue up until now, but he had questions that Cas was going to answer. “Why was, uh, Sariel and Vaveal killed, why were they guarding kids, and why are you teaching me to fight?”

Cas sighs quietly, looking away from Dean. Dean edges closer, pressing lightly against Cas, and trying to ignore the part of him that is telling him that doing this with the angel is bad news. That part hadn’t stopped the much more pleasant than usual dream he had had of Cas sucking him off this morning _. Stop it. Angels can read minds. You don’t want him hearing that._ “Seriously Cas. You can’t just expect me to not ask you questions.”

A smile tweaks the corners of Cas’s mouth. “Yes, it would be unlike you,” he acknowledges. Twisting his hands into a knot, he looks at them while he speaks. “And it is not a sudden thing, my fear that you will have to fight one of my kin. But what happened with Sariel and Vaveal made me realise how desperate the situation is. That is why I am going to teach you how to handle an angel blade. You need to know how to use it. There is a traitor, or traitors, among my kin, who are working with the demons against us.”

“Against us to do what?” Dean asks, after Cas doesn’t say anything for a minute.

Cas bites his lip. Dean tries not to stare. “Several years ago, there was an incursion in Heaven. My garrison was not there when it happened, but several others were. Most angels in them were killed, but some escaped. One of them, Hannah, told the archangel Raziel what was happening, and how the demons had somehow penetrated Heaven’s defences. He then alerted Gabriel, and both of them flew to deal with the demons. Both of them thought they would be enough to repel the incursion – after all, both of them were archangels, Raziel the third most powerful angel in existence, and Gabriel the fourth.” Cas pauses, looking up at the ceiling.

“They were wrong. Raziel was killed, and Gabriel was injured. He fled to earth, and has not been seen since. We have tried to locate him, through spells and through a physical search, but to no avail. Only Michael and Raphael are in Heaven now, and the garrisons that were most used to travelling to earth had been killed. We are low on firepower, and Raziel’s Sword was lost, falling to earth where demons could find and use it.”

Cas lets out a sigh, and looks at him, his blue eyes sad. “The demons are ahead of us in this war for the first time. They are winning, killing angels with angel blades that they received from the traitors that are betraying us. I do not know who they are, but I am fairly certain there are some inside my garrison.”

“Your garrison? Doesn’t Anna run your joint?”

Cas swallows. “I told you. Anna has been taken away for re-education. I lead the garrison now.”

Dean hadn’t known this re-education thing would go on for so long. The idea of it made his stomach feel like he had swallowed a rock.

“Do you have any suspicions about who the traitors are?” He asks, trying to change the subject.

“I have a few thoughts,” Cas says quietly. “But I cannot prove them yet. Several are above suspicion. I trust Anna with my life, but she is gone. Balthazar and Rachel would not betray me.” Cas leans in towards him slightly, and Dean takes the opportunity to put an arm around his waist and draw him closer. He tries not to feel like he’s taking advantage of the angel, but the feeling creeps in anyway.

They sit like that for several minutes, Cas lightly tracing symbols over his skin with a finger. His fingers go to the cut he dealt Dean, and he wipes it away, his thumb removing the cut and the blood, restoring Dean’s skin to its former state. Dean feels the half familiar chill go through him that accompanies Cas healing him, and he shivers slightly. Cas looks up at him before settling his head on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean lets out a breath. “Do angels feel?” He asks quietly. Cas’s head whips around so quickly Dean thinks he’ll give himself whiplash. “Like this,” he says, dragging a finger over the back of Cas’s hand.

Cas relaxes marginally. “It depends on the angel,” he says. “Some can cope with the feelings and impressions that human senses give us, but others cannot. Usually, the more practise you have, the better you are. It is like the taking of our vessels. Some angels are better suited to it than others.” Cas’s mouth twists slightly. “It also depends on how closely the angel holds themselves apart from their vessel, and if they try to feel or not. Those that begin to indulge in human senses often become lost in them. It is like a drug, something that they will not give up. Many refuse to return to Heaven. Most Fall.”

“Fall?”

Cas tenses. “If they were in Heaven when they Fall, then they settle in a womb, ready to be born. The ones who Fall in vessels simply take on the guise of their vessel, and live out the rest of their days inside them.”

Dean swallows, tightening his grip slightly. “I don’t really know what’s going on with this sword, or Gabriel, or your fight against demons. But Cas,” he says, waiting until the angel looks up at him. “I’m on your side. The whole way.”

Cas’s eyes widen slightly. Then he smiles, and Dean thinks that it’s the largest smile that he has ever seen the angel produce. It makes something warm light up in his belly, heating his body and soul.

He smiles back.

~*~*~*~

_Four angels walk towards the door of the FBI building, heading outside. The public mill in the lobby of the large headquarters, and there’s a soft hum of voices. A large audience._

_One angel is wearing a tan trench coat, and is being herded by the others, especially a bald man who seems to be in charge. The trench coated angel looks nervous and afraid, and keeps casting looks over his shoulder, like he’s waiting for someone._

_Dean appears in the door that leads to the stairs. He throws himself at the angels, and there’s a fight, which Dean wins, the life of the angels burning out, leaving black wings on the floor. There’s a silver sword in his hand._

_He steps forward, threatening the bald angel, who he hasn’t harmed. The bald angel disappears, and Dean kisses the angel in the trench coat fiercely before exchanging several words with him. They_ _disappear._

Pamela shoots upright in her bed, panting heavily. The dream is stuck in her head, and she moans at the headache that accompanies such prophecies.

Missouri appears in her bedroom door, but the older psychic doesn’t say anything, simply leaving a glass of water on her bedside table before walking out. She knows there’s nothing she can do, and that saying anything would simply make Pamela’s head hurt worse than it already does.

Pamela thinks about the dream. She already knows that she can’t tell Dean. She _knew_ those angels were bad news.

“Dammit Dean,” she says into the empty room. “What have you gotten yourself into?”


	10. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In dealing with a trickster, Dean finally makes a move on Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by me :)

_Alastair grins at him, running a knife down his face and opening up a shallow cut._

_“Dean, Dean, Dean. What am I going to do with you?”_

_Dean struggles, trying to get out of the chains that bind him, but it’s no use. He is stuck, right where the demon wants him to be. “Stop, please,” he begs. “Don’t do anything else.”_

_His body is already pulsating with hurt from the knife’s tracks. Alastair laughs at him._

_“You don’t want me to hurt you anymore, hmm Dean-o? Well okay then, whatever you wish. How about, I hurt him instead?”_

_Alastair pushes a chair in front of him, where Dean can see it. The silver chains that bind the man are inscribed with Enochian, the type that binds. Blue eyes look at him from above a taped over mouth._

_Dean starts struggling. “No!” He screams, trying to get out of the chains, trying to move, trying to do_ anything _._

_“Nuh-uh-uh. You said you didn’t want to taste my blade anymore Dean,” Alastair says in his nasally voice. “But I want to hurt someone, and if it isn’t going to be you, then it’s going to be him.”_

_Dean screams in protest as the first cuts are made to Cas. Instead of bleeding blood, he bleeds blueish-white light, half blinding Dean. Cas’s eyes light up in pain, because Alastair’s knife has turned into an angel blade._

_“_ Stop it _!” Dean screeches, and it’s the effort he puts into the shout that wakes him up._

Dean pants, his head in his hands, trying to process what had just happened. He had thought that his nightmares were over, but Cas hadn’t been around that much lately, tending to his angelic duties. He must have forgotten about Dean tonight, which meant that he had dreamt.

Dean shudders, trying to rid himself of the remnants of imaginings that his brain had called up. He’s lying in a pool of his own sweat, and it’s the disgustingness of it that finally gets him to move.

He drags himself out of the too large bed and stumbles into his bathroom. He turns the shower on and sits under its spray. Gradually, it wakes him up, and he blinks, getting the water out of his eyes.

He comes to the realisation that he had dreamed about Alastair torturing Cas. He quakes, curling into a ball. He had only dreamt about Sam, Bobby, Ellen or Jo under the knife before. His closest family. No one else.

What did that mean?

He has an urge to pray for Cas, but just as he’s about to, he realises that he’s sitting naked in his shower. It probably wouldn’t send the right message.

He sighs. He hadn’t dealt with the crippling fear his dreams brought in a while. He was out of practise with them. The fact that he _had been_ in a place at one time where he had dealt with them nearly every night seems crazy to him now.

He rubs his hands through his hair, trying to dispel the light headache. It doesn’t work, and he’s not surprised when it grows, hammering on the inside of his skull. He drops his head to his knees, and hopes that the hot water isn’t going to run out any time soon, because he doesn’t want to move.

“Are you alright?”

Dean’s head jerks up, and he stares at the angel in his bathroom.

“Cas, what the fuck are you doing in here? Get out!” Dean yells, feeling blood rush to his cheeks as he scrambles to get out of the sight of the angel. Unfortunately, the shower has few hiding places.

Cas’s face turns concerned before he disappears. Dean stares at the place the angel had been occupying for another few seconds before he yanks the shower off, and dries himself hurriedly. He hadn’t brought any clothes into the bathroom: why would he? It’s his apartment, and it wasn’t like he was expecting company, especially in the form of the angel who had been haunting his dreams.

He ties off the towel around his waist and leaves the bathroom. Cas isn’t in the kitchen or the living room, and it’s another minute before Dean realises that the angel probably took ‘get out,’ as leave the apartment.

“Oh my god, I meant the bathroom, not the apartment!” Dean says to the empty room.

There’s a whoosh of feathers, and Dean doesn’t have to turn around to know that the angel is standing behind him.

Dean turns, giving the angel his best glare. “Why the fuck are you here, Cas? You don’t just interrupt someone while they’re showering!”

Cas blinks, and he still looks confused, damn it, why is his confused face so attractive? Dean pushes the thought to the side, but it keeps poking him, demanding attention. He also tries to ignore the one that’s imagining blue and white light pouring out from gashes in his skin.

“I…” Cas trails off, and Dean’s blush returns as Cas gives him a once over. _What on earth is happening right now?_

Dean raises his eyebrows, prompting a continuance of the explanation. “I felt that you were in distress, so I came.” Cas’s eyes trail over his body, and Dean knows his face is red right now. Why didn’t he put on a shirt before calling Cas back?

“You are not hurt?” The angel asks. “It felt like you were hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Dean grunts.

Cas’s eyes go wide. “Did you dream?” Dean doesn’t answer, staring the angel down. “Dean, I am sorry. I had to organise a raid, and it took longer than I thought it would. A few days, and then the actual raid itself, which did not end well.” Dean took a moment to look Cas over. The angel seems fine, which allays some of his fears. “I was resting when I felt your soul calling out, so I flew here.” Cas looks tired and worried. Dean sighs.

“Cas. Look at me.” Cas does, and Dean fights down the appreciation he has of those eyes. He’s wearing only a towel right now, and the awkward would only continue to grow – if that was possible – if he got a boner. It’s something that he does not need right now.

“First, never go into a bathroom while someone’s showering. Unless you think they’re being killed. And you have to be really, really sure they’re being killed. It’s just not something you do, okay?” The angel blinks before nodding slowly. “And secondly, I am fine. I don’t need your fancy mojo to help me sleep. You can go.”

Cas pauses with his mouth open, and Dean curses inwardly. “What?”

“I am tired. I used up my remaining energy to fly here.” Dean finally sees the angel blade in the angel’s hand. Something pulls at his heart. Cas flew here, with no reserves, fresh from a fight, ready to defend him against whatever he was facing off against.

“Tired? Like, sleep tired?”

Cas rubs a hand over his eyes. “Not quite, but it is the closest thing that I can correlate it to.”

“So, you need to recharge your batteries?”

Cas frowns, but nods. “I suppose.”

“Fine. You can crash here.”

They hover for another few seconds before Dean goes to get changed. Cas is still standing in the same place he left him when he comes back out, but now Dean is facing him in boxers and a shirt, which makes him feel more secure. He goes to his liquor cabinet, planning to try and pass out to get some more sleep. He’s about to open a bottle when there’s a hand on top of his, stopping the movement.

Dean turns his head, looking at the angel. “What the hell Cas? Let me drink.”

Cas shakes his head. “No.” He takes the bottle out of Dean’s grasp, and begins pulling him back to the bedroom. “You are going to sleep the natural way.”

Dean digs his heels in. “I can’t sleep after dreaming Cas,” he says. “I can’t.”

Cas pushes him in the room, then onto the bed. “Yes, you are. I will be in the living room, and if you try to get past me, I will know.”

Dean is tired, and it’s more than the dream that’s making him this way. He’s tired of trying to hide something for months on end, and it’s stopping now. Maybe he’ll regret it in the morning, but he needs it _now_.

“Stay.”

Cas looks at him startled. Dean hopes he hasn’t misjudged the angel. “Stay here.”

Cas hesitates. Dean says something before he can move.

“And you cannot sleep like that. You are not staying in this apartment if you don’t take off some layers.”

Cas looks flustered, but Dean blinks and he’s standing there in a lot less clothes than a second ago. He has a shirt on that Dean recognises as his, from his drawer, and in a pair of boxers that Dean’s never seen before. He’s going to assume that the vessel was wearing them when he possessed him. Dean feels a twinge of regret for the guy before he banishes it. Those thoughts don’t belong here.

Cas slowly sits down on the side of the bed. Dean moves over to make more room, and suddenly his bed seems just the right size. Not too big anymore. Even if it is kinda gross from the dried sweat, but Dean can live with that.

Cas lays down on his back, and Dean shuffles over a bit more, getting comfortable. He has no desire to sleep, but Cas is soon breathing deeply, and Dean knows that the angel is the closest to sleep that he’s ever going to get.

He watches Cas, feeling like the tables have turned, until he falls asleep as well.

~*~*~*~

Dean buries his nose into the soft, nice smelling hair in front of him. He doesn’t want to wake up.

He moves so he’s more firmly pressed up to the lean body in front of him, not that he has shift much. Dean has always been someone who would drag the other person he was sharing a bed with towards him, whether it be Sam or someone who he had stayed the night with after having sex, which doesn’t happen often. Dean is a cuddler, although he would never admit it out loud. He moves a hand to loop around the other person’s middle, pulling him back towards him. He nudges his legs forward so they’re against his, with one leg gently pushing its way in between his thighs. He pushes his leg up slowly as far as he can before rubbing it a little back and forth, sighing happily. That’s much better. He can feel the soft skin of the back of his neck against his lips, the long slope of his back against his front, and the very nice sensation of an ass moving against his dick every time either of them shifts.

Dean drowses for another few minutes, but his body eventually tells him that it’s had enough sleep. He opens an eye blearily, looking at the time. His clock says that it’s Saturday, and just after nine. His open curtains are letting through the sun, and that’s probably what woke him.

The other person moves slightly, and Dean freezes. His attention is drawn back to him, and he gazes at Cas silently.

The angel is still sleeping, or at least the angelic equivalent, but if the small movements that he’s making are any clue, then Dean guesses he’s about to wake up.

Dean gently presses his fingers down in a rhythmic motion before sliding them away, and taking his leg out from between the angel’s as well. He gets out of the bed as silently as he can manage, and walks to the door, yawning. Turning in the doorway, he leans against the wall, watching Cas silently.

The angel’s face is serene, and with the covers of the bed pulled up to his chin, Dean can’t see anything that he knows Cas is wearing. His imagination fills in the blanks for him, so that Cas is lying there, tired after a night of fucking, not fighting in some battle. He wouldn’t be wearing anything, of course, and the shadow over his neck isn’t from the sheet, it’s a bruise that Dean had sucked onto his skin.

Dean takes a deep breath in and holds it, shutting his eyes. Without opening them, he turns and walks out to his kitchen to make something for breakfast.

He opens his fridge, looking at what is in there. He pulls out some eggs and bacon after a minute of deliberation, and throws them into a pan on the stovetop. He turns the gas on and sighs as they start cooking almost immediately.

What had he been thinking, to ask Cas to sleep with him?

Obviously, he hadn’t been thinking at all. A sneaking sense of guilt goes through him. He had no right to touch the angel’s body in the way that he had, without his consent or knowledge. He sets his jaw as he cooks. Just because he had been treated like shit in the majority of his first sexual encounters doesn’t mean he had to imitate them. Making the resolution to not touch Cas again until he is certain that the angel understands what Dean is doing and wants it is hard, but it’s better than the alternative.

Dean is turning over the eggs when he hears a sound behind him.

“Good morning Cas,” he says quietly, knowing that the angel can hear him. “I made you some bacon and eggs. Pretty sure that you haven’t tried that yet, and let me tell you, you are missing out on the real Heaven.”

“I do miss my home recently. I have not been able to go back for some weeks.” Cas’s voice is quiet as well, and rougher than usual. Dean looks over his shoulder to see him, and feels his stomach flip. If he thought Cas had had sex hair before, well, that idea is well and truly gone now in the face of what he’s looking at right now. “But I doubt that food can make up for it.”

Cas looks up at him with large blue eyes when Dean crosses the room to him. The urge to kiss him rises up, but he squashes it, like he has over the past few weeks. They had gone on two hunts, flushing out an entire vamp nest between them, and Cas had helped him figure out where a witch had been selling cursed objects on the black market. The angel is pretty damn useful, but Dean had treasured the moments between the action the most, when Cas would ask him about human things, and Dean would explain them, watching as understanding grew in the angel’s eyes. He liked it when Cas would be in the room when he finally was able to sleep, and was still there in the morning. He liked it less when Cas left to do something Heavenly, or to do with his garrison. Dean had been able to figure out that Anna hadn’t come back yet.

Dean smiles softly instead of looping his arms around Cas like he wants to, and Cas tilts his head slightly.

The smell of food burning brings him back to himself. He looks away from Cas and hurriedly moves to where the eggs are trying to blacken and curl. Dean curses under his breath as he turns them, and hears Cas moving quietly towards him. He tries not to think of how long they must have been staring at each other. The angel observes him as he flips the eggs and bacon and puts the bread in the toaster.

Dean pulls out two plates and slides the food onto them. “Here.”

Cas takes the plate and the cutlery Dean gives him a second later. They move towards the table, and Cas’s chair moves out without the angel having to touch it. Dean frowns at the angel for a second, but Cas just shrugs.

Dean doesn’t start eating in favour of watching Cas take his first bite. The angel had mastered the art of the knife and fork a month ago, and now he picks them up, looking at the plate with a thoughtful look on his face, as if he is considering the best way to eat the food in front of him.

Dean watches with amusement as Cas gets a triangle of toast and dips it in the egg yolk before cutting off a piece of bacon and then eating it. His blue eyes widen, and Dean smiles as he chews quickly, already cutting another slice off.

“No need to rush it Cas. Take your time.”

Cas frowns, but eats the rest of his breakfast at the same rate that Dean does. When they’re finished, Cas follows him to the kitchen, where he piles their plates in the sink and puts the jug on to boil. He gets out two cups, already knowing that Cas would want some coffee.

After he’s finished making the coffee, Dean meanders over towards his couch, sinking down on it gratefully. Cas sits down next to him, and Dean feels the air between them change slightly. He sips his coffee, trying to avoid acknowledging the tension.

“Your batteries fine?”

Cas nods, sipping his coffee. “Yes. Thank you for letting me stay here last night. It is nice to be somewhere safe.”

Dean bites back the question about Heaven being safe. “That’s good. Good that you know that here is safe.”

Cas’s eyes widen slightly. “Yes, I helped with the sigils, and you keep them up and –”

“That isn’t what I’m talking about Cas.”

That seems to silence the angel for a few minutes. He stares into his cup like it has all the answers that he needs.

“Did you sleep well, anyway?”

“I did not sleep. Angels do not sleep.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “So what, you knew everything that was happening around you all the time?”

Cas pauses. “When I had recovered enough to, then yes, I did.”

“And when was that?” Dean asks, a curl of worry twirling in his stomach.

“Before you woke up,” Cas says softly. “I was going to leave, but then you stirred.”

_Well shit._

Dean can feel his cheeks heating, and he _hates_ it, hates it, hates it.

“So, you, um,” Dean stumbles over the words, the sounds not coming out the right way.

“Yes.” Cas says simply. “What was your meaning, behind asking me to stay?”

Dean halts. “I, ah, just wanted you to be safe. And I didn’t think that I would be able to sleep anyway, because I dreamt, so I thought that I could make sure nothing happened to you…”

Cas’s eyes are soft. “Nothing can get in here Dean,” he reminds him gently.

Dean shrugs awkwardly. “Yeah, well, you looked kinda out of it.”

Cas looks at him for several minutes, and Dean _tries_ not to look at him, but feels his gaze being drawn back every time.

“Sorry. For that.” Dean doesn’t think he’s been more embarrassed, ever. And he just feels like he should be saying sorry. He doesn’t feel that sorry, really. Just sorry that Cas might not have liked it. But if the angel hadn’t protested, even though he had been awake, then what did that mean? Did Cas not know what to do? Had he wanted to avoid an awkward situation? Or had he liked it?

Cas knows what he’s talking about. “No. Don’t be,” Cas says softly, looking away from Dean. “It was… pleasant.” Cas blushes, and Dean watches in fascination as the soft pink travels across the angel’s cheeks.

“Ahh, good then. I mean, not good, but good but…” Dean stops rambling before he can say something he’ll regret. Cas liked it. Fuck. As if Dean needs anything else to keep him up at night.

Cas smiles quickly, ducking his head.

“Are you sticking around?”

Cas shakes his head, looking back up at him, and Dean tries not to get lost in that sea of blue. “No, I need to make sure that all of my angels are well from the battle.”

“Oh. Okay,” Dean says, trying not to let disappointment creep into his voice.

Cas nods, and they finish their coffee. The angel bids him goodbye, and Dean tries not to stare for too long at the empty space he leaves behind.

~*~*~*~

Castiel wakes before Dean does. The hunter is against his back, and Castiel is on his side. He frowns, since he does not move while resting. Perhaps Dean had encouraged him to roll over.

Castiel tests his energy reserves, and they are well on their way to being replenished. A little roll of satisfaction goes through his Grace to know that he would soon be able to perform at his usual capabilities.

The sun is warming the skin of his vessel, and he is about to turn around to look at Dean when the human moves. Castiel does not stir, unsure of what to do. Dean’s arm curls around his stomach and he shuffles forward the extra few inches to be pressed up fully against Castiel’s back. Castiel does not do anything when Dean’s leg pushes its way between his own. It sends a little thrill of heat through him, centring around his lower stomach. Dean’s leg slowly pushes upwards, and Castiel allows it, confused at the feelings he was experiencing. It rubs decisively against him, and Castiel has to force himself not to make a sound, although his breath catches as the heat spreads throughout his body.

With his heart beating at a faster tempo than normal, Castiel swallows quietly. Dean’s lips move against his neck, and his grip on Castiel tightens, pulling him more firmly against him. The human keeps him there for another few minutes, and Castiel tries to figure out what is happening. His heart is beating harder than normal, so he can feel it rushing through certain areas of his body. Dean seems to smell better than he usually does, and he wishes that Dean’s hand was not as low as it is, sitting under his shirt and beneath his belly button, right over where the heat is gathering. But at the same time he wants it lower, and the conflicting wants and urges are confusing him to an even greater degree.

He keeps his eyes closed, not wanting Dean to know he is awake. After a few more minutes, Dean sighs softly, and Castiel shivers slightly when the exhalation goes across his skin. Dean flexes his body, stretching it, and Castiel can feel it even through the layers of cloth separating them. Dean’s hand presses into his skin, and Castiel fights down the urge to move when he drags his fingertips over his stomach. His leg slowly slides out from between Castiel’s, and the angel has the feeling that Dean thinks he is sleeping, and does not want to wake him.

Dean hovers in the doorway for a minute after he gets up before he leaves. Castiel feels the ripple of emotion go through the bond that they share, but there are too many factors for him to know what emotion was the dominating one. Castiel opens his eyes and licks his lips, staring at where Dean has just been standing.

What had that been about? He had been confused when Dean had asked him to stay last night, and even more when Dean wanted him to stay in his bed. Had Dean wanted him there, truly? Castiel knows that he was distressed enough for his soul to call out for him last night. He places his own palm hesitantly over where Dean’s had been, but there is no response. He is simply touching his stomach. It does not raise the shivers and the heat that Castiel can still feel rolling around in his belly, and the urge to touch Dean back is still there. He should discount that, because he wants to touch Dean most of the time, but this is a different sort of touching, Castiel is sure. He shifts uneasily, wondering about his emotions. His Grace turns over unhappily, and he growls at it. He can have emotions if he wants to. And he _does_ want to.

He decides that he is too inexperienced with emotions to understand fully what had happened, but he does spend some time thinking about it. He determines that he liked what just happened, and perhaps he wants more touching of that kind in the future. He will ask Dean about the encounter to fully grasp his feelings and thoughts on the subject.

Castiel pushes back the covers and stands. He briefly looks at his clothes that are stacked neatly in a corner, but chooses not to put them on. Dean had not dressed, and he does not want to make the human uncomfortable.

Dean has made food, even though he knows that Castiel does not need it. It is among the better food he has eaten though, and tries not to eat it too quickly after Dean admonishes him, matching his pace to the hunters.

His Grace turns over again when Dean doesn’t ask about the coffee, just knows that Castiel will want some. He grits his teeth and tries to distance himself from it. His full attention should be on Dean now. Beautiful Dean, who has a soul that is shining happily right now.

He follows Dean into the hunter’s lounge room, settling on the opposite side of the couch to him.

He tells Dean that angels do not sleep, and feels the turmoil of emotions that brings up in his soul. Castiel gently tells him that he had been awake, and watches in captivation as Dean blushes. It is not something that Castiel sees often, and he treasures the expression. But when Dean apologises for pressing up against him in the night, Castiel knows that he has to correct that, now. He doesn’t want Dean thinking that he disliked it, or that he does not want it to happen again, because he does. So he tells Dean that he liked it, and watches as Dean’s soul perks up in interest.

He leaves quickly after that, switching his clothes and finding a place in a mountain range in the north of Canada to gather his thoughts. Flying means using his Grace, and he’s disheartened to find that the short flight has him exerting himself more than he usually does. It is getting harder to reach for his Grace.

He puts his worries about what is happening to him aside. Anna is not here to talk them over with, and he cannot reach any conclusions on his own. If he has to ask Dean he will, but not yet. Not until he has to.

Dean. Castiel thinks about the human, how rash and impulsive he is, how he wants to help people down to the very depths of his soul, how it shines when he laughs, how he makes Castiel feel. It gives him a headache.

He checks on all the angels in his garrison methodically. Each have their own favourite places on the earth, and he feels for them and visits them to make sure they are well, and have not taken harm since the battle. They lost more angels in the battle. Iveal and Xaeal would not fly with them anymore. That leaves twelve angels, if you count Anna. Castiel isn’t sure if he should.

He sits with Balthazar the longest, checking on his friend last. Balthazar does not ask where he had been last night, but Castiel is sure that he can see the traces of Dean’s soul and being that still cling to him. The other angel looks worried, but does not ask. Castiel is grateful. He still is not sure how he can explain his affection for Dean. To the other angels, he is simply a human that Michael has a claim on. That is what makes him special. Castiel wants to rail and rant about how that is not true, but he holds his tongue, sits through briefings, leads his siblings to battle and comes back injured and aching with the loss of two angels. It sends a flare of anger through him, and Balthazar casts a look at him.

“You okay Cassie?”

Castiel nods. “Yes Balthazar. My Grace did not suffer any long term injuries. You are well, yes?”

Balthazar nods. They’re on a beach filled with human life, and Castiel can feel the intensity of the sun as it beats down on the sand, leaving it scorching hot, and having the humans running for the surf.

They watch the humans for a while before Balthazar shakes his wings out and brushes it against Castiel, the show of trust making Castiel aware of the time he has not had over the last few months. He used to spend so much time with Balthazar, but his quiet longing to be with Dean and fulfilling the duties as leader of the garrison now takes up most of his time.

“I miss this,” he says, looking out to sea. “I miss spending time with you.”

“I know what you mean. Nowadays, you’re either with the human or organising something or other.”

“He has a name.”

“And why should I call him it? He’s not going to be using it in a year anyway. He’s just going to be Michael.”

Castiel tries to hide how much that makes him afraid. “Still, it is respectful to call him by his name.”

Balthazar rolls his eyes. “Just because you care about them so much doesn’t mean that everyone else does. Seriously, you need to lighten up. They’ll be gone in a century, what do they matter?” Balthazar shakes his head.

“They matter,” Castiel tells his friend. “They matter.”

Balthazar raises an eyebrow. “If you say so Cassie. I’m not so sure.”

Castiel knows that humanity matters. He _has_ known it, ever since he first observed a small animal crawling out of the sea, witnessed its determination to live, seen how it refused to die. Why his siblings cannot grasp that simple knowledge is beyond him. He knows that he’s always been slightly different to them, but to have Balthazar remind him of it right now when he’s so doubtful about what is happening with Dean hurts him.

Balthazar is silent for a few minutes as they watch the people stream back and forth on the beach. “I don’t think the mission is going to plan,” he says eventually.

Castiel looks at him sharply. “What do you mean?” What has Balthazar seen, or heard? He’s never doubted their superiors before. But looking at his sibling’s drawn face, Castiel wonders if the loss of Iveal is weighing on him more than anyone else. Besides Castiel, that was the angel that Balthazar had been closest to, the two of them spending time together when Castiel was accompanying Anna or doing something that related to the running of the garrison.

Balthazar shrugs. “I wouldn’t be saying this if it weren’t you Castiel. I just think that the high ups expected us to win every battle and beat the demons before they even had a chance to realise what was happening. And that’s not what happened.”

“The demons had time to make plans while we waited for the Righteous soul. We had to wait for him.”

“Your human isn’t that special,” Balthazar scoffs. “Just a means to an end. But that did give them time to organise. Azazel and Alastair are working under Lilith to make sure that they win this war. And I think that they might have a good shot. Look at them,” Balthazar says, gesturing to the humans. “Used to be, for every ten souls that we got, they got one. Now it’s nearly a fifty fifty split. Hell’s gaining power as the human race grows more corrupt.” He sighs. “I have a bad feeling.”

“I am sure that our superiors have planned for every eventuality, and know what they’re doing.” Castiel’s voice comes out harsher than he intends, and he winces.

Balthazar shakes his head slowly. “I’ve just got a bad feeling, that’s all,” the other angel mutters, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of the air and putting them on.

Castiel tries to stem the feeling of dread that’s seeping into his Grace. It doesn’t work.

~*~*~*~

After the morning that Cas slept over, the angel doesn’t stay again. He doesn’t mention it, and never presses for Cas to stay.

They take out a vampire nest, and Cas helps him discover how a certain stock holder had mysteriously become debt free. Witches are never nice to deal with, but with Cas there, the angel can mojo him free of whatever nasty shit the witch had thrown at them. The angel had been absent on some of the hunts that Dean goes on, so he gets to face down an okami by himself, and he ropes in Ellen to help with several werewolves in Maine.

Summer comes, and Dean sees all of the angels less and less. He can’t remember the last time he saw Samandriel, and the more Uriel stays away, the happier he is. He hasn’t seen Anna since Cas told him she was taken away, and every time he thinks about it his worries about the red haired angel grow. Balthazar is around sometimes, and Cas shows up every night, if not to spar then to show him how to manipulate Enochian runes, what different ones mean and how to use them. Cas teaches him different types of warding, and about the properties of holy oil. He also teaches Dean a sigil that can be made from human blood that can repel angels. Dean memorises that glyph quickly.

Cas doesn’t say anything about where the angels are, how Anna is, or what they’re here for, no matter how much Dean pesters him about it. They go through the sweltering summer with Cas keeping his silence, and Dean trying to get out of him as much knowledge as he can while also trying to figure out if Cas is interested in him. The angel doesn’t show any of the normal signs of it, but Cas isn’t normal, and Dean is beginning to think, that in his own way, Cas might be into him.

As he learns more about the dark haired angel, he also sees how big the gulf is between Cas and the other angels. Cas writes it off as him being their superior when Dean asks, but Dean doesn’t think that that’s the whole story. The other angels are too different from Cas, both in rank and personality to be close to him. The fact that Cas doesn’t look down on humans as beneath angels is just another thing that comes between the rest of the angels and him, and one more thing that makes Dean interested in keeping Cas around.

He doesn’t think about his feelings for Cas in much depth. He knows that he’d like to tap that ass, but it’s more than just physical. He likes how Cas doesn’t get his references, and how he would tilt his head sometimes, and how he was teaching Dean everything even though Dean is ninety eight percent sure he shouldn’t be. Bending and breaking the rules for him.

Dean doesn’t linger on the sappy stuff. He knows that he wants something more with the angel, and until at least the first step towards that happens, he’s not going to spend time on any emotional crap. If he gets in too deep, and Cas doesn’t want anything… Well, it’s better to not think about it.

July starts, and Dean doesn’t expect the month to go any different than the two before it. He can beat Cas sometimes now when they spar, but he’s sure that it’s just because he knows the angel so well. How he’ll do against another angel is the real question. Cas tells him that he would have gotten Anna to spar with him if she were around, but doesn’t answer when Dean asks where she is. Dean doesn’t push the issue, knowing that if he does, Cas will just bail on him.

When Rufus hands him an assignment, it’s simply the norm. Until, that is, Dean starts reading the brief. There’s the bright blue triple A stamp on the cover of the folder, and, like every time he sees it, Dean laughs quietly to himself. As if the angels needed a human’s approval to know anything they wanted to know. The ‘Angelic Assistance Approved’ stamp is simply something else for the high ups to waste time on.

It isn’t rare to get cases handed to him like this, but it isn’t common either. It usually means that another department had stumbled into something that they know nothing about. The peculiar case goes up the chain of command until someone who knows about the supernatural identifies it and sends it to the SPN unit to investigate. Charlie usually goes through all those, and sends the ones that she thinks might be cases to Rufus, who hands them out to whoever he thinks can do it best.

Dean flicks through the folder, frowning at the information it contains. He might have to call up Bobby and see what the older hunter thought about the information he was seeing in front of him. He picks up his phone and dials Cas, but the angel doesn’t answer. It isn’t rare for him to not pick up, but Dean was hoping he would anyway. He dials Bobby’s number next.

“Singer Mechanics, what can I do for you?” Bobby asks in his gruff voice.

“Hey Bobby. Still answering the phone like that?”

“Well if some person with a dead car does ring me, I want to sound like I could know my stuff,” Bobby says. “Unlike some people, I’m not employed by the government.”

“You could be if you wanted to though,” Dean reminds the older hunter. It was true. His bosses had been trying to get their hands on Bobby’s arsenal of knowledge for years.

“Whatever,” Bobby growls good-naturedly. “You called for a reason. Spit it up.”

Dean smiles for a second. “I’ve got a weird case,” he admits. “Wanted to know if you had anything on it.”

“Tell me,” Bobby says.

“In Ohio, there’s been several killings over the last few weeks. All were killed in different ways, and let me tell you, I’m looking at the pictures… and they’re weird.”

“How so?”

“Well, one Richard Keeper was killed two weeks ago. He was known for his weekly attendance of church, and kind to the majority of the population, including his family. Also a bird hater. He hated them with a passion. Something to do with his childhood, and how he lives on an orchard, and the birds eat all his fruit. Used to shoot them all the time, trap them and kill them, poison them, you name it.”

“It’s not nice, but doesn’t sound like a reason to get killed,” Bobby interjects.

“Yeah. Except, his wife came home one day and found him torn apart, with all sorts of birds sitting around eating the corpse. And not just crows and hawks and stuff either. There were parakeets and hummingbirds as well. Birds that had never touched a piece of meat in their lives were chomping away at this guy.”

There’s a pause. “That is a bit weird.”

Dean shakes his head. “That’s just the first one. Kelly Manger was the local electrician. She died of a severe electric shock while installing some cables. A week after she dies, it comes out that the new brand she had been installing are cheap and dangerous, and that the folks had been paying out of their asses to get electrocuted. Reason that it’s in the folder is because she was cooked by the charge that killed her. Completely.”

“Nasty.”

“I know. They think someone put an extra battery or boosted the charge up somehow to get a shock that severe.”

“Any more?”

Dean nods, then realises that Bobby couldn’t see it. “Yeah, another four. Basically they were some sort of asshole, and they were killed rather ironically by what they did to others. Like this guy who claimed to sell psychic products. Killed by two of his own playing cards, which stabbed him right through the eyes.”

Bobby hmms over the phone for a minute, obviously thinking. “I don’t have any research yet, but just by hearing what you have to say, I’d say that you’ve found a trickster.”

“A trickster? What’s that?” Dean questions.

“Beings with the power to bend time and space, create things out of nothing, and are known for having a sweet tooth. You know Loki, the Norse god?”

“Just in general, nothing specific.”

“He was the most powerful of them. There’s also Anansi in West Africa. They’re more like demi-gods really, and they create mischief and chaos wherever they go, leaving a trail of it in their wake. They like to knock down the high and mighty, get justice for those who can’t defend themselves, like your birds. They can create reality, things and people as real as we are. They’re immortal, and wise to hunters, so it’ll know you’re in town before you get there. Bring your angel, I’d say.”

Dean rubs a hand over his face. “Cas isn’t answering his phone.” He’d see the angel tonight, but he wants to be on the road, not waiting for him to turn up. “I’ll take Charlie.”

“Just be careful Dean,” Bobby cautions. “Tricksters can be powerful beings, and they love messing up hunters. Have to stake ‘em in the heart to kill them, and the stake has to be dipped in one of their victim’s blood. A difficult kill. Charlie isn’t a hunter, not in her heart. Take Annie and Victor.”

“They’re out right now,” Dean says, looking at their empty desks. “Werewolf problems again.”

Bobby curses over the phone. “I swear, those wolves are everywhere nowadays. I directed some hunters to a pack in Pennsylvania a few days ago, and another pack in Oregon to Tamara yesterday.”

Dean frowns. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Just some more for a while.”

Bobby is silent for a few seconds. “I hope that’s all it is,” he says eventually. “Anyway, wait for them to get back before you go chasing after this one Dean. Trust me.”

They say goodbye, and Dean looks at the phone before dialling another number. Like he expects, Cas doesn’t pick up. He does however, leave a message.

“Cas, I’m heading up to Ohio on a hunt, won’t be home tonight. If you can spare a second, I wouldn’t mind a hand.”

He hangs up and gathers his things. It’s only morning, and there’s a decent amount of the day left for him to drive. He could be well on his journey by the time he had to sleep tonight.

“Sorry Bobby,” he murmurs, leaving the office after getting approval from Rufus. He isn’t going to let anyone else die.

~*~*~*~

By the time Dean gets to the small town in Ohio, another person has died in strange circumstances. Dean decides to start there when he’s looking for clues, deciding that the trickster’s tail would be freshest there.

He pokes around the crime scene. The only thing he finds out of place is a mound of candy wrappers in a corner. Dean decides that Bobby was right, and that there is a trickster here.

He spends the night in a motel, half expecting Cas to show up. But the angel doesn’t, and Dean shakes off the unhappiness he feels at not seeing the trench coated man. There’s no time for that now.

He researches tricksters, and spends some time sharpening some stakes. He had obtained a few pints of the victim’s blood from the crime scene, and he put the stakes in the jars so they can soak overnight.

He wakes up knowing that he had dreamed, but not what of. He takes a shower, washing the sweat from his body, and decides to get an early start on the day. Really early. It’s only just past seven by the time he leaves the motel.

He spends the rest of the day searching for clues, but there appears to be nothing strange in the town. The trickster would know that he us here by now, and Dean is keeping an eye out for anyone that is eating excessive amounts of candy while following him.

By the end of day, he’s decided that he needs to stake out the next victim. He spends some time searching through the profiles on the database of the town, and picks out two more people who could be next on the tricksters list.

He stakes them out the next day, and wishes for a partner to watch the other. He spends a few hours on one and the rest of the day on the other, but there are no strange signs around either of them.

He does more research that night, trying not to take Cas’ absence to heart. The angel had other things to do, he knew, but he had made the time every night before. What is keeping him now?

That leads to nameless worry about the angel and what he could be doing and what could be going wrong. The angel had fought in a battle when he had come to Dean’s house two months ago. What if he’s fighting again?

The quiet worry follows him the next day and the day after. The lack of results is beginning to annoy him, and that plus the worry is making him more tired than usual. He’s beginning to think that the trickster had skipped town after figuring out who he is. It isn’t unusual to have the monster leave, but it is irritating.

Dean is about to call this one done when the next murder happens.

He grabs his gear and heads to the crime site after hearing it on his police radio. When he gets to the place at the outskirts of town, where the murder was reported, there’s a suspicious lack of police cars and there’s no one at the crime site. If it even is a crime site, which Dean is beginning to doubt.

Dean hesitates outside the building, not wanting to head into a trap. But the trickster is almost certainly inside, so he pockets everything he can manage before heading up to the door. He’s seen the kind of crazy this trickster can produce, and he’s going to be prepared for whatever gets thrown at him.

He’s about to open the door when he hesitates. He doesn’t want to face this guy alone.

“Cas,” Dean says lowly. “If you’re not doing anything, then I’d really, really, appreciate it if you could wing your way down here and lend a hand.” He rattles off the coordinates, and waits for a second.

There’s no rustle of wings, and Dean bites his lip, worry for the angel flaring up inside him once again. But when he turns, Cas is leaning up against the warehouse door, looking at him.

Dean’s worry turns to annoyance. “Cas, where have you been? I’ve been worried about you!”

Cas blinks, and he lowers his brows for a moment. “I have been leading my garrison.”

“Can you be here or not?” Dean asks. Cas looks away for a second.

“I can be here for as long as you need me to be here,” the angel says. Dean nods.

“Good. There’s trickster in here, and I wouldn’t mind some help with killing it.”

Cas shakes his head. “I do not sense any tricksters inside this building.”

Dean sighs. Did the creature lead him here while he fled? “Well we have to check it out anyway. Come on.”

Dean opens the door, and steps inside. It’s pitch black, and Dean hears Cas walk in and the door close behind the angel, trapping them in darkness. He’s about to ask if he can turn the lights on when a solid weight connects with the back of his head, and he loses consciousness.

~*~*~*~

Dean groans at the pounding in his head. He sits up, eyes adjusting to the dim light that seems to have no source. He rubs a hand over his face, and then looks around for Cas.

The angel is knocked out, slumped against a wall. Dean has never seen any of the angels in such a vulnerable state, and he feels a pit of fear open in his stomach.

He moves over to Cas, and props his head up against his shoulder. Trying to take the duct tape off his mouth proves fruitless, and Dean gives up after a few minutes of hopelessly trying to pry it away from Cas’s skin.

The angel is still breathing, so Dean sits next to him. The room is bigger than he thought, as he can’t see the other side of the room, the unnatural light not reaching that far.

Cas stirs against his shoulder, and Dean is nearly distracted from the man making his way out of the darkness.

He has longish gold hair, and is short. He’s dressed like any other person on the street, and is silently chewing on a chocolate bar. He has eyes the colour of brandy, and he smiles at Dean, coming closer.

Dean already knows that his weapons are gone, but he checks anyway, fumbling at his pockets. The tricksters smile grows slightly before he frowns.

“It was going to be so easy,” he complains. “But then you just _had_ to call him, right? What, you can’t fight your own battles?” The short man rolls his eyes. “Honestly. Kill you, skip town, no one’d be the wiser.” His mouth twists into a pout. “But then the angel shows up. Now, someone’s going to notice if I kill him, and they’d come after me. I don’t want that, so I can’t kill him. Or you, because then he wouldn’t stop until he found me.” The trickster’s brow furrows and he bites off a piece of chocolate.

“Sorry for messing up your plans,” Dean grunts, moving so he’s sitting in front of Cas. It isn’t much, but it’s something, and he needs to feel like he’s doing something. The trickster lifts an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment.

The trickster clucks, and then shakes his head. He brings the hand not holding chocolate up, and snaps his fingers. He disappears, and the scenery around Dean changes greatly. When Dean looks at Cas, the tape is gone from his mouth, but it’s not a big reassurance.

They’re sitting in a shopping mall, the crows streaming around them. Dean recalls Bobby’s words about creating reality and groans. He doesn’t need this right now.

“Cas,” he says, trying to cajole the angel awake. “You really need to wake up now.”

The angel shifts again, but doesn’t open his eyes. Dean sits there for another ten minutes before Cas groans and lifts his head up. The shoppers still stream past them.

“Dean?” Cas asks, his voice lower and rougher than usual. Dean tries to ignore the effect it has on him, and looks at the angel with concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Define okay,” Cas grouses. “My wings are sore, and I cannot fly.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. Get up, we have to go.”

“Go where? Where are we Dean?”

Dean shrugs. “I don’t know. The trickster put us down here. He probably has some nefarious plans, so we have to be ready.”

Cas shakes his head. “I told you Dean. There is no trickster here. I know the feel of their magic, and the feel of their illusions. There is none of that here.”

“Then what the hell is going on?” Dean asks, looking around. The people look real enough, but they have a kind of blank air around them, as if they had no personality of their own, and are merely part of the greater whole.

“Something strange,” Cas says, frowning. “No trickster could have knocked me out. We are dealing with something much more powerful than a trickster.”

“Great,” Dean groans. “Just what we needed. An uber-powerful monster.”

“I am glad that you called me,” Cas says lowly. “It would have killed you if I hadn’t been here.”

Dean shivers and presses up against Cas’s side. “Yeah, well I’m glad you answered.”

They stand, and Cas only staggers a little against him. “Very powerful,” the angel murmurs, and Dean bites his lip.

As if they were waiting for them to get up, the shoppers stop moving. One man screams, and there’s a gunshot. Masked men burst through the windows, shooting the crowd, who are screaming and panicking.

“Can you fly us out of here?” Dean yells over the chaos.

“No!” Cas shouts back. “I cannot move my wings. The creature must be doing something to me!”

Grabbing Cas’s hand, Dean ducks his way through the crowd, trying to avoid the gunmen and search for a way out. He spots a door, and drags Cas towards it, shouldering it open.

They come out in a racetrack, the crown screaming for a different reason than the one they had been for a second ago. There are cars screeching around the track, but Dean ignores them, looking for the short form of the trickster.

Cas looks worried, but he doesn’t let go of Dean’s hand, letting the hunter lead him through the crowd. Dean spots a door, and points at it. Cas nods.

They open the door, and Dean shuts his eyes against the blinding light on the other side. When he opens them, they’re standing on a hill, overlooking the sea with the sun setting in the distance.

Dean lets his breath calm down and reluctantly drops Cas’s hand. Cas looks around, and Dean flops down on the ground. Cas sits down next to him, and Dean automatically leans towards the angel.

“What’s going on, Cas?”

Cas shakes his head slowly. “I am not sure. But it is not a trickster doing this.”

“Of course. Just my luck. How are we getting out of here?”

Cas looks at him. “When it wants us out, then we will be out.”

They sit for ten minutes before the hill under them starts wavering and the sky starts fading.

White settles around them, and forms into a corridor. Cas stands, and Dean follows suit, looking around.

“He’s playing with us,” Dean says, as the walls start to close in around them. “And I’m pretty sure that I will get crushed if these close, and you might as well, so _come on_.”

They run, Dean grabbing Cas’s hand again. The hallway stops, and there’s no door. Dean spins, but there’s no door in the other direction either.

The walls stop when there’s a small room left. Dean puts their backs at one of the walls, and Cas looks at his hand.

“I cannot summon my blade,” he hisses.

“Mine’s gone,” Dean admits. “He took it when he took everything else.

Cas grits his teeth, and then turns his head swiftly. His eyes widen, and Dean looks at the trickster.

“Can’t have you two together. Sorry, but you’re going to have to go Castiel.”

The creature snaps his fingers and Cas disappears, his hand vanishing from Dean’s grasp.

Dean watches as he blows a bubble of gum, and it pops. He sucks it back into his mouth and chews it, studying him. Something about it reminds Dean of nearly every angel he’s come across, and he shifts uncomfortably, trying not to think about where he could have sent Cas.

“Michael was right about you,” the trickster finally says. “You are the one.”

Dean furrows his brow, before deciding that anger is better than fear. “What the hell are you talking about? And where the hell did you send Cas?” He growls.

“Your angel is fine,” the trickster says casually. “And you’re going to need that,” he continues, nodding to the silver angel blade that had just appeared next to Dean. Dean grabs it, settling into the stance that Cas had taught him. The trickster smirks at him for a second. “Believe it or not, I’m on your side Dean.” His smirk turns more wistful. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

He snaps his fingers again, and Dean is sitting in the Impala next to Cas.

He stares at the angel with wide eyes. “What the fuck was that?” He asks.

Cas blinks at him, looking nearly as stunned as he probably does.

“Are you well?” Cas asks, hand reaching out to touch him. He must be satisfied with what he finds, because some of the panic in his eyes leaves.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Where did you go?”

A haunted look comes over Cas’s face. “Somewhere I’d rather not go again. He knew it would make me uncomfortable.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “What?”

Cas looks away. “Gabriel sent me to a… den of iniquity.”

Dean stares for a second before laughing. It bubbles up and he lets it out quietly for a few seconds. “Well. I would have paid to see that. But you’re fine.” Dean blinks. “Wait. Did you say… Gabriel?”

Cas nods. “As in, the Gabriel? The one with Mary and the bible and all that?”

“Yes. He has been missing from Heaven for a time, and now I have located him.”

“What are you going to do?”

Cas pauses. “I should tell Zachariah that I saw him.”

“But…?” Dean asks, noticing how Cas’s eyes flick towards him and then look out the window.

“He spared you. And me. He could have very easily killed us both.”

“So you’re considering not telling on him because what, angelic karma?”

Cas frowns at him. “Gabriel is a very powerful angel Dean. With Raziel dead, he is the third most powerful angel alive. It would do well to not annoy him.”

Dean rubs his hands over his face. “So what, you’re going to lie to Zachariah?”

Cas doesn’t move, but Dean can see how his hands tighten into fists. “Yes. I will.”

Dean doesn’t push. He can tell that Cas doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. The urge to run a hand down his arm and take his hand again rises, but he dismisses it. Or tries to.

He thinks over what Gabriel said. “What did he mean when he said that Michael was right about me?”

Cas tenses. He looks up at him, eyes large and afraid. “Hey, Cas, what’s wrong?”

“What did he say, exactly?” Then angel asks him, looking at him intensely. “His exact words.”

Dean pauses, but then recounts the entire conversation. At the end, Cas closes his eyes briefly, and his lips move soundlessly, drawing Dean’s eyes to them.

“What did he mean?”

Cas looks away. “Cas!” Dean says, grabbing his sleeve before he can zap off. “What did he mean?”

Cas leans forward and rests his head on Dean’s chest. Dean freezes as Cas’s hand curls up and over the handprint on his shoulder. Dean hesitantly rests the hand that isn’t grabbing Cas on the back of the angel’s neck.

“Hey,” Dean says softly. “It’s okay. I’m here, it’s okay.”

Cas lets out a shuddering breath and then stills almost painfully. “Cas?”

“It’s my Grace,” Cas says quietly. “It’s nothing.” He doesn’t look up, and the words are murmured into Dean’s neck.

“It’s not nothing if you’re talking about it.”

“Please, don’t…” The sentence fades and Cas doesn’t say anything else for a minute.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t ask about it.”

“About what?”

“Any of it.”

The questions and their replies are murmured quietly between the two, only loud enough for the other to hear. Dean looks at the sun, which is quickly making its way down towards the horizon. He wonders how long Gabriel kept them trapped.

Dean bites his lip. “You’re going to have to tell me eventually Cas.”

“Eventually is not now,” Cas mumbles peevishly.

That makes Dean smile. “What was that? Some angelic backchat?”

Cas looks up at him, and Dean has to remind himself to keep breathing. Cas is so close, their noses almost touching, he could just lean down a bit…

Cas blinks. “Sorry,” he says.

“Don’t be,” Dean replies. “You’re fine.” _And more than fine_ , his brain adds unhelpfully.

Cas keeps looking at him though, fuck him, to look like that, and not expect Dean to kiss him.

So he does. He leans forward, and presses their lips together softly, his hands tightening slightly where they grip the blue eyed man.


	11. Alphas and Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas’s lips are softer than he thought they would be.

Cas’s lips are softer than he thought they would be.

The angel stiffens, and Dean takes what he can in that chaste press of lips, knowing that it was extremely unlikely that he’d ever get to taste them again.

Cas’s eyes are wide and stunned when he reluctantly pulls back. Dean licks his lips, watching for the angel’s reaction. For a moment, he considers denying it; denying that it had been something he had been longing for. Denying that he had wanted to kiss the angel for so very, very long.

But he can’t do that to Cas, or himself. He can’t bring himself to say ‘I’m sorry,’ or ‘It won’t happen again,’ or ‘Forgive me.’

He can’t bring himself to regret that press of lips, of easing the yearning that had been bubbling away inside him for longer than it should have been. The initial feelings that he had had about Cas the first time he had seen him in the cafeteria are nothing compared to the bone deep ache for closeness that had been affecting him for longer than he would admit to. He had stolen touches here and there, pressing up against the angel to feel him, even as it accentuated his otherness, his coldness, his inhumanity.

He can’t regret the feelings he had been trying to avoid for months, he ones that made him feel less shit when the other being is with him, the ones make him believe that maybe there is some hope him after all. He wants Cas, in both a way that he should not (he wants to feel the angel under him, pressed against him, moaning and falling apart because of him) and the way that is probably worse (he wants him by his side every second, to see him smile every second, to hear his laugh every second: he wants to drag him from Grace and drop him in the filth of humanity, of _Dean_ and all he represents). He wants to shield him from his wants as they grow and fester and scratch at his insides, thirsty to be out. He tries to fight that down, that unholy want, and it recedes grudgingly, waiting for its time in the spotlight, waiting for the time to be let out, for it to be allowed to whine and growl and roar in the open air, to be able to voice it’s desires and have them returned. Dean swallows the urge to spit the words out, staring at the wide eyed and shocked angel.

“Cas…” He begins, but before he can say anything else, the angel disappears. Dean lets the stab of pain and regret fester in his stomach for a few minutes as he doesn’t move, staring at where the angel had been.

He’s furious with himself for ruining one of the only good relationships that he had in the fucked up situation that he had found himself in in the previous few years. He starts the Impala, and starts driving. It takes a shorter time than normal to get home, because he doesn’t stop.

He calls Charlie, telling him that he’s home and that the problem was dealt with. Charlie sounds worried when she asks after him, but he brushes it off as being a long drive. She doesn’t sound convinced, but tells him that she’ll see him tomorrow.

Dean hangs up and puts the phone down on the bench. He picks up the bottle of whiskey that is sitting unobtrusively on his kitchen bench and throws it across the room, where it smashes with a loud crash, the golden liquid sliding down the wall, mocking him with its cheery colour. He can’t bear to look at it, feeling as if it is silently berating him for not being able to control himself.

He resists the urge to swear, and slowly drags his feet as moves towards the couch. Sitting down slowly, he covers his face with his hands, breathing out as a wave of self-loathing burrows its way out of his soul to carve a place for itself in his heart.

Silently, he uncaps a bottle and starts drinking.

~*~*~*~

Charlie’s worried when Dean doesn’t show up on time. When he hasn’t called an hour later, when everyone is in the office, she’s more than worried. An hour after that, Garth and Ash are quietly talking about what could have broken into Dean’s apartment and caught him off guard. She decides that she needs to go and check on him.

Rufus is uneasy as well. Charlie says she’s going to go and check on him after Krissy tries to call him and doesn’t get a response. Nobody tries to stop her. The phone call with Dean had her concerned already, and now he isn’t picking up or showing up, and she’s more worried. Last night he had sounded tired and sad and _angry_. That’s not a good mix, and now she has a quiet ball of worry rolling around in her stomach.

Charlie tries not to fret as she makes her way through the city to Dean’s apartment block. It’s hard, and she’d speeding by the time she pulls up in a fifteen minute parking space, not caring if she gets towed.

When she gets to Dean’s floor, she can see the precautions on it, and can feel the magical ones when she pushes her hand towards the door. There’s no way she’s getting through it without a battering ram and a few psychics to stop the supernatural defences. That’s time that she doesn’t have, not when she really needed to go and check on Dean last night, when her instincts had been screaming at her that something was wrong.

She briefly wishes for an angel of her own, so that they could help, but dismisses the thought. She can’t linger on the impossible solutions. It won’t help her find a plausible one.

A dim memory of Dean telling her of a neighbour that takes care of his place when he’s gone surfaces. Charles? Chick? Chuck?

She knocks her way down the hall and asks until a sleepy looking dishevelled man answers his door, blinking at her blearily. When she asks if he’s Chuck, he brightens and stiffens a bit before answering.

“Who’s asking?” He questions her warily.

“I’m a friend of Dean’s. Do you have the key to his apartment?”

Chuck hesitates. “Why?

“He didn’t call in to work today. We’re worried.”

Chuck rubs a hand over his face and closes the door. Charlie waits, and isn’t really surprised at the holy water that’s thrown in her face. She wipes it off and glares at the man peering nervously out of the crack in the door.

“I’m not a demon,” she pleads. “Just let me in.”

Chuck still looks doubtful. “I’m keeping the key,” he tells her. Charlie is grateful for the loyalty that Dean inspires, but wishes that right now it’s a bit less, and that Chuck would hurry up.

“Fine,” she bites out. “Just hurry up.”

Chuck scuttles down the hall to Dean’s apartment and turns the key in the door. It clicks open all the other locks, and it must be some sort of master key to do that. She can feel the supernatural defences falling as they recognised someone authorised to unlock the door behind the key, and Charlie feels a little wave of relief that Chuck had unlocked the door. Who knew what might have happened if she had tried to do it. Sometimes Dean’s ruthlessness and ingenuity worked against you.

Chuck stands aside, and Charlie takes a deep breath before pushing open the door. The reek of alcohol hits her before anything else. The second is the massive glyph drawn on the wall opposite her, and if she’s not mistaken, it’s done in blood. It looks over a week old though, so she ignores it for the time being.

The third thing she notices is Dean, passed out on the floor between the couch and his table. There’s vomit on the ground beside him, and that smell hits her next. Technically, she doesn’t run when she goes to him, but it’s a close call. When Charlie touches him, he’s cold, and for a second she thinks he isn’t breathing, which freezes her, uncomprehending. Then he takes a shallow breath, and so does she.

“Call an ambulance,” she orders, turning him on his side and checking to see if there is anything caught in his mouth or throat. She hears Chuck talking in the background, but she ignores it in favour of making sure Dean is going to be okay. He doesn’t respond when she rolls him over, and she can only hope that he’s simply passed out from drinking too much, and that it’s not something worse.

Charlie has the sense to move Dean out of his apartment before the paramedics get there and think he’s involved in some sort of cult, due to both the glyph and various paraphernalia around the apartment that most normal people don’t have, like ancient and dusty tomes and ingredients for spells strewn all over the place. The paramedics don’t let her ride in the ambulance, even after she tells them her car was towed.

Chuck offers to drive her, and she thanks him for it. They arrive with Chuck in his dressing gown and Charlie covered in vomit from when she had knelt in it. They still look better than some people that are sitting around in the emergency room.

She takes the time to call Rufus, and soon Ash and Annie turn up at the hospital. They all wait for an hour until a nurse comes and tells them what had happened.

He says that Dean has acute alcohol poisoning, and that it was one of the worst cases he had seen. Charlie bites her cheek through the while spiel, including the part about how he could have died if someone wasn’t called. They had fitted a catheter to him, and were hoping he would wake up soon. They could see him if they wanted.

Charlie’s worry about Dean grows as the hours tick by and he doesn’t stir. Annie and Ash leave, and tell her to call if anything changes. Charlie nods, and continues her vigil. She uses the time to call Sam and tell him about what happened. Predictably, he wants to fly down as soon as he can, but she manages to persuade him not to, reminding him of his wife and their daughter, as well as his work. He reluctantly concedes, and tells her that as soon as Dean wakes up, she should call him, even if it’s in the middle of the night. Charlie hangs up after reassuring him, and stares at Dean as he lies there quietly.

“There are a lot of people worried about you, you know,” she tells him. She hopes that it’ll reach him somehow. “You’ve got friends and family who all look out for you. What happened, Dean? What prompted you to do this?”

She sits in silence as she waits for an answer, with only the soft sound of their breathing filling the space between them.

It is only when nurses are beginning to usher visitors out of the hospital that he stirs.

“Dean?” She questions softly. Dean blearily looks around the room before his eyes settle on her.

“Charlie?” He mutters, confused. “What…?” A suddenly jolt of remembrance strikes him, and Dean grimaces, his face drawing up and clouding with pain.

Charlie doesn’t want to ask, but she has to know.

“What happened?” _What happened for you to down so much alcohol you nearly died?_

Dean looks away. “Nothing,” he mumbles.

All of the worry and fear she had been holding inside her snaps into anger.

“What do you mean, _nothing_?” She hisses. “I find you curled in a ball in your own vomit, hardly breathing, and _you say nothing?_ Don’t patronise me Dean Winchester. You are going to tell me what happened right this second, or _so help me God_ , I will kill you for making me so worried and afraid.”

Dean blinks at her, stunned. “Sorry,” she mutters.

“Don’t be,” Dean replies.

They sit for a minute with Charlie looking at Dean expectantly and Dean looking anywhere but her.

“So I went out on the hunt, right?”

Charlie nods, and Dean proceeds to tell her every boring minute of what happened while he was on the case. They’re just getting to when Dean is pulling up at a warehouse when a nurse comes in.

“Excuse me, but you have to leave.” She looks apologetic, but firm.

Charlie shows the nurse her badge. “I’m FBI.”

The nurse shrugs. “Even so, you have to leave, for the good of the patients.”

“Yeah Charlie,” Dean buts in, before starting to cough. The nurse and Charlie watch him as he gets his breath back. “For the good of the patients.”

The nurse stares at her, and she can’t get the rest of the story out of Dean with her there anyway, so she reluctantly stands. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she threatens, making sure Dean nods before she leaves.

It’s after eight, and she runs a hand through her hair, trying to ease the headache that she can feel coming. She fishes her phone out of her bag, pressing down the three to speed dial that number.

“Charlie? What’s up?” Lara’s voice comes through the phone line, tinny and scratchy and not doing her voice the justice it deserves. Charlie can feel herself unwinding just listening to it.

“Can I come over?” She inquires, hoping the other woman will say yes. There’s a pause, which is filled with the rustle of clothing and fabric.

“You don’t have to get dressed,” she continues.

“I need to wear something other than my pyjamas,” Lara grumbles.

“Why?” Charlie laughs, unlocking her car and putting the phone on speaker.

“Because you’re probably coming from work and it’ll be weird if you’re in business gear and I’m wearing the clothes that I sleep in.”

“It’s so hot that I’m probably just going to shed most of my clothes anyway,” Charlie offers.

“You’re welcome to shed all your clothes after we have dinner,” Lara replies in a lower voice. “And so will I. After dinner.”

Charlie rolls her eyes, even though the other woman can’t see it. “Bossy much?”

Lara laughs. “If you say so. When are you going to get here?”

Lara lives on the outskirts of Phoenix, being one of three people that Charlie knew that don’t live in the city centre. “Twenty minutes maybe? It depends on the traffic.”

Lara makes a humming sound, and Charlie knew that she sympathised.

“Maybe I should just change my day off to your day off,” she muses.

Charlie can hear the smile in Lara’s voice when she continues. “That would be nice,” she utters shyly.

Charlie smiles. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll see you when I get there?”

“Yep. See you then.”

Charlie hangs up and finishes the drive to Lara’s, and she enjoys both the food and the after dinner activities. She leaves from there in the morning, not bothering to go to the office, simply going to the hospital to question Dean some more.

She’s at the hospital and by Dean’s side as soon as she’s able, where he tries to dodge her questions about what happened. He tells her about the trickster and some of the things he’d put both Dean and Castiel through. She finally gets some info out of him when she asks about Castiel.

“Cas left,” Dean eventually grunts, and Charlie tries not to hit him.

“Dean,” Charlie says, annoyed. “I can see that this is eating you up. Just _tell me what happened!_ ”

Dean looks at the floor before talking. “I kissed Cas,” he admits softly.

Charlie feels her jaw drop. “You did what?” She asks, her voice verging on hysteria. “Dean, he’s an _angel_. You can’t just drop something like that on him with no warning! He isn’t equipped to handle it!”

“Yeah, I figured that out,” Dean says moodily.

Charlie drags a hand down her face. “Look, when he comes back, just let him explain. He probably just freaked or something. Give him some time, and it’ll be fine. What you don’t do, is come home and try to drink yourself to death.”

“Sorry,” Dean mutters. Then he lifts his eyes to Charlie’s, and she sees something moving in their green depths. “But what if he hates me? Or doesn’t want to be friends?”

Charlie narrows her eyes. “Okay, one, you sound like a twelve year old getting over their first crush. And two, Castiel won’t do that. He’s into you as much as you’re into him.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean tells her, looking annoyed.

 _God save her from idiots everywhere. Especially the ones she has to work with_. “Ah, yes I do. I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen, for like, six months.”

Dean stares at her, and Charlie rolls her eyes. “Get over yourself,” she tells him. “Honestly.”

Dean looks away. “I think I might take some time off. Clear my head.”

Charlie frowns at him. “Why?”

Dean shrugs. “I just need some space.”

Charlie purses her lips. “I’ll call in your leave then.”

Dean shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”

Charlie raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to want somewhere to come back to. Don’t sweat it.”

Dean looks less than pleased, but he has no choice but to accept it, because it’s happening, whether he wants it to or not.

They let Dean out of the hospital after he’s been cleared, and he waves to Charlie as he drives off in his Impala. Charlie looks after him, still worried that he’s going to do something stupid, like try to hunt alone.

She sighs softly, thinking about what he had told her. Dean could have gone about in _any_ other way, and he had to do the thing that would freak Cas out the most. Shaking her head, she goes over to her car and climbs in.

She can only hope that they’ll work it out.

~*~*~*~

Castiel cannot breathe.

His Grace is burning, burning, _burning_ , and it’s hard to take air into his vessel, the lungs contracting and heart beating too fast. He can’t think, mind clouded with the feeling of Dean’s lips pressed against his, and he is _burning_.

He whimpers, curling up in a ball, trying to stop his Grace from doing anything else. He can’t stop thinking about Dean, about how he smelt and how his soul felt pressed up against his Grace, and how Dean had _kissed him_. His wings flap abortively into the ground, disrupting some snow, but not doing much else.

“Cassie?” Balthazar’s voice echoes toward him as if the other angel is far away, but Castiel knows that to hear his voice he must be standing near his vessel. He tries to reply, but his throat is tight and he can’t move.

“Castiel!” Balthazar yells, and Castiel can hear the panic in his voice. He feels arms wrapping around him, and Castiel can tell he’s going to try and take him up to Heaven.

 _No,_ he whispers quietly, and Balthazar falters.

“What?”

_Somewhere quiet. Safe._

Balthazar’s white and black magpie wings beat around them as he carries Castiel somewhere. Castiel is not sure where he had landed in his desperate flight away from where Dean had been.

Balthazar puts his vessel onto a bed, and he’s tempted to leave it behind. Leave Dean’s touch on his skin and get away from his body and breathe for a second. But if he abandons his vessel then he would have to go to Heaven, and he cannot do that now.

“Cassie, what’s wrong? Where are you hurt? I can see something is wrong with your Grace, but I don’t know what. I’ll get Abiel, she knows the most about poisons.”

“No,” Castiel manages to grate out. “Do not get anyone. Do not tell anyone.”

Balthazar flutters worriedly by his side for a few more seconds before leaving. Castiel hopes that he has not disobeyed him. His Grace twists again, and he groans as it separates itself slightly from him.

Balthazar lays a cloth over his forehead. “Cassie…” He murmurs quietly, and Castiel knows that he is trying to see why he is hurting.

“Hurts,” Castiel whimpers quietly. He feels Balthazar’s distress grow.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

“It should pass soon,” Castiel gasps. “This is stronger than normal.”

Balthazar sits by him until he isn’t curled into a ball. His Grace gives out one last shudder before subsiding.

Castiel relaxes in relief, feeling his wings sprawl out behind him from where they had been twisted up. The black feathers ease and spread on the mattress as he blinks open his eyes. Balthazar is watching him, concern written all over his face. He lets go of the bedspread where it had been ripping in his grasp and rubs a hand over his face.

“Cassie?” Balthazar queries softly. “What was that? Your Grace…” He trails off.

Castiel looks at him. Balthazar is not stupid. He should be able to know what is happening to him.

Balthazar cautiously wraps a wing around him and brings him closer. Castiel gratefully curls up closer to the other angel, finding comfort in the touch.

They don’t say anything for a while, Castiel picking at a string in his coat. Balthazar sighs.

“I knew this mission would be bad for you Castiel.”

“I know,” Castiel sighs quietly. “I knew as well.” Even from the beginning, Dean had been too intriguing, too fascinating, too lovely.

“You care too much. And at the beginning of this, I saw how much you cared. It’s always been your flaw.”

“It’s not a bad flaw to have,” Castiel says testily.

“True. You could be so good looking that the ladies throw themselves at you. That’s what I have to deal with every time I go out in public.”

“That’s your vessel, and you do not have women throwing themselves at you. Don’t exaggerate Balthazar.”

Balthazar lets out a huff. “Well I have to say something.” The silence lapses again. “What happened?”

“He kissed me,” Castiel mutters.

He can feel Balthazar starting to smile. “Yeah? Anything more than kiss Cassie?” He teases. “Ahh, you’re growing up. I feel proud.”

Castiel can feel himself blushing. “No, we did not do anything more. I left after that.”

“I can’t say that I approve of the human, but he deserves better than that Castiel. You can’t just love em and leave em. Even if you did a little less lovin’ than I would have recommended.”

Castiel’s cheeks heat even more. “Dean is perfectly suitable as a mate.”

Balthazar continues, ignoring him. “You could do with a good hard fuck. It’d loosen you up.”

“Balthazar!” Castiel exclaims.

“What?” The other angel says. “It’s true. You don’t know what you’re missing out on Cassie.”

Castiel looks away. “I don’t…” He rubs his head briefly, lost. Balthazar takes pity on him.

“It’s okay Castiel. How many times have we watched humans fall for people who are not suited for them? How many times have we seen the circumstances stacked against them?”

Castiel did not say that most of them failed.

“They are humans Balthazar,” he painfully, the words wrung out of him as he closes his eyes.

There’s nothing the other angel can say to that.

“That’s not all,” Castiel breathes eventually. “I suspect…”

“Yes?”

Castiel lets out a breath. “I suspect that angels are giving the demons angel blades, and information so they can work against us.”

Balthazar is quiet for a second. “That’s a serious accusation Cassie. You sure?”

Castiel nods. “Yes. And I also think that there are some in our garrison. I trust you, and Anna, but others are suspect.”

“Well we have a reduced number of angels, so that should make it easier.” Balthazar’s words are light-hearted, but his tone is not. When Castiel looks at him, his face is drawn.

“Yes,” Castiel replies. “It should.”

“Any other bombshells you have to drop on me?”

Castiel hesitates. Balthazar sees it and sighs. “I was joking, but let’s hear it.”

“Anna is in re-education,” Castiel confides quietly. He had kept that from the rest of the garrison. “I haven’t seen her since Zachariah took her away from us. And,” he is about to continue.

“More, Castiel? How much have you been hiding?”

Castiel casts an annoyed look at him. “And, I think the traitors know that I know about them. And they know that I am injured. Likely, they will try to kill me to weaken the entire garrison. We are the only ones left who have deep knowledge of earth and how to move on it. With Anna gone and myself dead, they would have little trouble either killing the rest of the angels not loyal to them, or chasing them back to Heaven.”

“This is more and more screwed up by the minute. Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

“I didn’t want to involve you,” Castile mumbles. He doesn’t need to look at Balthazar to see the irritated look the other angel is giving him.

“Really?”

Castiel shrugs.

They sit for a few minutes, Castiel still thinking about Dean and Balthazar absorbing everything that he’s been told.

Castiel lifts his head as he hears a tremble and a flick in the distance.

“Balthazar?” Castiel whispers. “Did you hear that?”

It isn’t something that anyone who isn’t an angel could hear. It is on the celestial plane, a whisper of wings and the quiet stink of hell-bound intentions.

“Yes,” Balthazar hisses. “We have to go. You can’t fight, they’ll rip you apart.” It’s true. Castiel is still weak. Even though he is an extremely good swordsman, there’s no chance that he will be able to fight off more than two angels without getting hurt.

Castiel slides his blade into his hand. “I can fight if I need to.”

Balthazar grimaces. He summons his blade as well. “I don’t want to see you die Cassie. Fly now, get away.”

“No,” Castiel retorts, affronted. “Don’t be ridiculous. They want me, not you. You leave.” Balthazar never preferred to fight with a sword. He always favoured using Grace.

Balthazar rolls his eyes. “As if.”

The sounds come closer. “It’s the traitors,” Castiel whispers lowly. “It has to be.”

Balthazar nods once, sharply.

Light begins to shine through the windows. Castiel looks at Balthazar, and wishes that Anna was there to help them in the fight.

Then the windows burst, and angels swarm through the cracks.

~*~*~*~

Dean hasn’t seen Castiel in nearly three weeks.

He hasn’t gone to work since leaving the hospital. He didn’t leave any explanation, but Charlie had called in his leave without his consent. She claimed it was because he would want a job to come back to, but he didn’t deign to answer that. He is running on less than fumes, and he knows it.

He stops at shitty motels and drives. He ignores calls from everyone, even Sam. Doesn’t check his emails. Ends up dealing with a ghost when he was looking through some papers and had seen a suspicious article.

He tries not to think about his angel.

He is such an _idiot_.

Why couldn’t he leave well enough alone?

He always _wants_ too much. Why couldn’t he just leave well enough alone? Everything was fine, and more than fine. It had been great. _Cas_ had been great.

Who was he kidding? It would have come to this eventually. No matter what Charlie said, no matter what she claimed Cas felt, the angle hadn’t shown head or wing for _three weeks_. Dean could feel the rejection coming from the angelic sphere, or wherever the hell Cas lives when he isn’t with Dean.

He’s been travelling around in the Impala, hunting if he saw something, and trying not to think about how long it’s been since he’s seen Cas.

He’s looking up a string of murders where the hearts are missing. Sounds like werewolves, and Dean doesn’t know what to think of it. There have been too many around recently to be coincidence, no matter when he told Bobby. Something is up, and he’s going to get to the bottom of it while trying to avoid thinking about Cas.

He’s currently driving through Alabama, although his destination is Savannah, Georgia. Right near the coast, the town has been getting some unwanted supernatural attention lately, and Dean is going there to end the reports in newspapers of suspicious deaths.

He gets there around dinner time, and eats at a small restaurant, paying with cash so Charlie can’t track him too easily. The red haired lady means well, but he really needs a break right now. He’s already turned all his phones off and hasn’t been near an email account in a week.

There’s a half decent hotel a street away from Georgetown, and Dean books a room there for a week, paying with cash again. The teenager manning the front desk flicks through the cash before typing something on the computer in front of him and then leaning back to give Dean one of the keys that are hanging from the wall behind him.

“Room eleven,” the guy throws out, eyes focused on the computer and not Dean. Dean takes the key and walks to the room, the one in the corner of the ground floor. It’s the room that’s most easily guarded, and he takes the time to set up the wards around the room, hesitating before opening a small cut on his arm and painting the angel sigil on the wall.

The murders were from two months ago, and Dean isn’t sure if that means another hunter came last month and killed all the werewolves or if they had only turned people last month, or if they had laid low last full moon. He would just have to wait another few days and see. He would call Bobby and ask, but the older hunter would ask about the trickster, and Charlie had probably told him by now that Dean had run, so he would ask about that as well. He just doesn’t want anything to disturb him while he worked stuff out. Damn that angel.

He spreads out all the information that he has before starting to put it all up on the wall, putting connections between them in red thread. It’s past midnight by the time he’s happy with what’s there, but there are several gaping holes in his information that he needs to fill before he can proceed. That’s what he’s going to have to do before the full moon arrives, and that only gives him three days.

He spends the time asking everyone who is even remotely connected questions. The police, the morgue, the families of those who were killed. It turns up a large steaming pile of nothing, to Dean’s dismay. He still carries his gun loaded with silver bullets though.

He’s just been wading through the sewer on a lead that turned out to be nothing. The full moon is tonight, and he’s probably just going to have to drive around in the Impala and listen for any reports on the police scanner. He scowls at the thought, and checks the time on his phone, not looking at the texts that have popped up in the last few hours. There’s some from Charlie, asking if he’s alright, one from Bobby that tells him that hunting alone is dangerous, and one from Rufus saying that his leave runs out in a week. He doesn’t text any of them back, instead having a shower to get rid of all the disgusting sewage out of every nook and cranny of his body.

Deciding to get an early dinner, he heads over to the local bar and orders a steak sandwich. He talks to the people around him, trying to get any clues, but comes up with nothing. Eating his dinner despondently, he’s resigning himself to a night of driving around aimlessly when he sees someone that makes his jaw drop.

“Madison?” Dean asks. The werewolf turns and stares at him, eyes wide. She’s wearing torn jeans and an old tee shirt, but the two guys behind her are giving her the respect of someone higher ranking than them. One of them lifts a lip and growls at him. Dean pulls a face.

Madison looks as surprised to see him as he is to see her. “Dean? What are you doing here? Don’t tell me that you have a squad of hunters around here,” she grouses, looking around.

“No, actually. I’m hunting alone.” Madison raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, dumb, I know. I don’t need you to tell me that as well as my friends.”

“Okay then. What are you doing here?”

“Why do you think? There’s weird in the papers. It attracts me.”

“Of course,” Madison says. “So you’re here to hunt wolf.”

Suddenly feeling a bit awkward, Dean nods. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Madison says. “Because so are we. If you come somewhere a bit more private, I’ll explain it to you.”

“And get eaten?” Dean questions her.

Madison shrugs. “You let me go last time, and Sam was pretty cool. So, I guess I owe you one. And you’re not a bad asset to the team. So, you coming?”

Dean looks around the bar before shrugging. He has his angel blade and a gun loaded with silver bullets, so he should be fine. And if Madison does try to kill him, he’s not sure he cares all that much. With everything that had happened with Cas, he isn’t particularly clinging to life right now.

Madison leads the way to a table at the outskirts of the bar, her two cronies following her. “Sit,” she commands, and Dean does, looking up at her bemusedly.

“So how’ve you been?” Dean asks the werewolf. She cocks her head and he ignores the pang of recognition inside him.

“You’ve changed,” she comments.

Dean shrugs. “I’m not in a great place right now. I’m running from a few things, and I don’t really care what happens to me. You can tell. Only crazy people hunt alone.”

Madison frowns. “Well I hope you get through that. But we’re not going to eat you. Let me tell you what’s going on.” She cracks her knuckles. “I’ve moved up in the world a bit since you last saw me. Got my own pack and everything. It was a good set up. Was.” She shakes her head. “Then I start hearing things. About a larger pack, one made of ‘pure werewolves.’ I do some snooping, and as it turns out, there is a pack running around, turning people, killing others and attracting hunters for the new werewolves to be killed by. You’ve probably noticed a lot of werewolves hanging around.” She waits for Dean to nod before continuing. “Well, that’s the reason. There’s talk in the werewolf community about the leader of this pack. Calls himself ‘the Alpha,’ which is ridiculous. Every leader of a pack is an alpha.” She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, I’m trying to build up my pack to rival his. The pack in this town? It’s an offshoot of his pack, one of the ones that he left behind that prospered. We’re going up against them tonight to crush them, to stop the other pack from getting stronger when they join together. So, you in?”

Dean absorbs the information. It would explain what’s been happening over the last year. “I’m in,” he confirms. “I’ll gather my stuff, and meet you here tonight then?”

Madison nods. “Yeah. I’ll have a few of my boys around, so don’t shoot them on sight.”

Dean feelings about this whole arrangement plummet. “Great,” he mutters.

“Well, you have a friend, so don’t complain. I don’t want to be out numbered.”

“Friend?” Dean asks, thrown. Madison nods towards where he had parked the Impala. When Dean turns around, he can barely keep himself from gaping. Gabriel is leaning against the Impala, lollipop in his mouth like he does it every day. “Ahh, I suppose I do,” he says bemusedly.

“Then see you tonight.” Madison turns on her heel and walks off, the two other werewolves following her. Dean reluctantly turns to walk back to the Impala. He has no idea what the archangel is doing here, but he’s going to find out.

“Gabriel?” Dean asks.

“So Castiel told you who I was,” Gabriel says, taking the lollipop out of his mouth and twirling it in his hand.

“Yeah, he, ah, did. Why are you here?”

Gabriel lifts an eyebrow. “So I’m going through town, and I’m like ‘huh, why has that room got Enochian on it?’ So I go have a bit of a look around, you know, through the window, and see that it’s a hunter’s room. Then I see the ward. It’s got Castiel’s name worked into it, so he can get through it, right? Well, I saw his name, and figured that it must be your room, because there’s no other human that Castiel would give his name to like that, or work it around a protection symbol like that for. So I moseyed around until I spotted you, talking to that werewolf, and waited for you back here.”

Dean purses his mouth. “Look, can you get off my car? You’ll scratch her.”

Gabriel grins lewdly but stands up. Dean grimaces distastefully

“So, while we’re talking about my little bro, where is he?”

“How about we talk about why _you’re_ here Gabriel. If you think I’m going to believe that bullshit about wandering around and finding me randomly, you have another thing coming.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Fine. I was looking for you. I was thinking about you, and I wanted to talk to Castiel.”

“Why?”

Gabriel frowns. “So Castiel hasn’t told you anything?”

“Cas hasn’t seen fit to talk to me in nearly a month.”

Gabriel bites his lip. “That doesn’t sound right.”

Dean snorts. “Well it’s what happened.”

Gabriel shakes his head. “That’s not like Castiel. Not like him at all.” He looks worried.

“Well that’s what he’s done,” Dean says. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

Gabriel lowers his eyebrows. “Sensing some tension. There more to the story than you’re telling me?”

“No,” Dean tells him shortly. “There’s not.”

“So there is,” Gabriel says. “What happened?” He questions gleefully, grinning at Dean.

Dean ignores him and goes around to the driver’s side of the door. Gabriel appears in the passenger seat and Dean glares at him. “Get out of my car.”

“Not until you tell me why Castiel is absent. He likes you, he wouldn’t normally spend this long away from you.”

“I have no idea why Cas is gone,” Dean says tightly.

“Liar,” Gabriel sings. “Liar, liar, liar.”

Dean grits his teeth and ignores the archangel. Gabriel keeps looking at him expectantly, and Dean can’t stand the silence anymore.

“It doesn’t concern you, alright?”

“What did you fight about?” Gabriel asks. When Dean gives him the stink eye, he shrugs. “Hey, I’m just curious about what could get under Castiel’s feathers. Most stuff just bounces off him. He’s a pretty dependable guy.” Dean drives into the parking lot of the hotel he’s staying at, trying not to think too hard about Cas. The archangel sitting next to him could probably read his mind or some shit like that, and he really doesn’t want him sticking his nose into whatever it is that’s happening between himself and his angel.

“Can you come inside my room?” He grumbles, locking the Impala.

“Well, I could blow it up, but that would kill you, and alert the other angels to my location, so no.”

“Great,” Dean says. “Goodbye. Go away Gabriel.”

Dean shuts the door of his motel room, but Gabriel pops his head up in the window. “I’m not leaving until I talk to Castiel.”

“I told you, Cas hasn’t been around.”

“And I told you, Castiel likes you. He’ll be back.”

Dean has his own thoughts about that, but he doesn’t want to talk about them with Gabriel, so he doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you, but it’ll blow over,” Gabriel flips his hand and a chocolate bar appears in it. “Trust me.”

“I’ve got no reason to,” Dean mutters, checking all his equipment and starting to strip his guns to make sure they are all in perfect working order.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Dean-o! I have your best interests at heart, really.” Gabriel pouts and Dean looks at him disbelievingly.”

“Like I’m going to believe _that_ ,” he scoffs. “As if. If you’re worried about anyone, then it’s Cas.”

Gabriel shrugs. “I was always close to him. I governed over his training, did you know that? Of course you didn’t. Anyway, I always liked him. And I’m worried about his involvement with you,” Gabriel says, scowling at him. “You’re not good for him.”

Dean bites back his response. He doesn’t want to agree with the archangel after all. “It’s none of your business.”

“He’s my brother, isn’t he? Sam is your business, right?”

Dean whips around, staring down the angel. “Don’t you even _think_ about Sam,” he threatens lowly, stalking over to the window. “Don’t you even _talk_ about him. He has _nothing_ to do with any of this. _Nothing_.”

Gabriel stares at him for a moment before looking away. “Touchy,” he mutters. “I think I got my point across.”

Dean lets out a breath, annoyed. “Don’t you have like, five million siblings then?”

“Sure. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have favourites.” He wriggles his eyebrows at Dean. “Some of them just suck, all around. But there are some who I like, and Castiel just happens to be one of them.”

Dean goes back to the bed and finishes checking all his guns, ignoring the archangel. There’s a few hours until he has to meet Madison, so he pulls the curtains shut, ignoring Gabriel’s annoyed protest, and has another shower, taking advantage of the good pressure and water heater here. He might be on bad terms with Cas, but he isn’t a good enough person to avoid thinking about him when his hand brushes against his cock. He has to work off some pressure somehow, and he wants to be relaxed for later on in the evening, when he’s going to be killing stuff.

And so he gets himself off to the thought of blue eyes and ruffled hair and those pink lips.

He dresses in dark clothes, not wanting to stand out in the gloom of where the werewolves would be. He’s at a big enough disadvantage without having them be able to spot him easily as well.

Putting his angel blade into the leather loop inside his jacket, he sticks as many silver bullets as he can into his pockets, and grabs his two favourite guns. Feeling suitably prepared, Dean locks his hotel door and walks out to the Impala, glaring at Gabriel, who is leaning on his Impala _again_.

“Can you not?” Dean asks grumpily, getting in the Impala and starting her engine.

“Well you didn’t let me into the room, so what was I meant to do?” Gabriel pouts, looking at him with wide eyes. Dean tries not to glare a hole through him.

“Leave?” Dean suggests hopefully.

Gabriel huffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, nah.”

“Because that would make my day easier,” Dean mutters under his breath. Gabriel raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t comment.

Madison is standing near the table when they pull up to the bar, and there are several men and women in the background. The sun’s final ray falls behind the horizon, and the world is cast in a shadow that gets deeper with every second.

“So are you helping or not?” Dean asks, casting a look over at the archangel.

Gabriel huffs out an extended sigh. “Fine. I’ll help. I don’t like werewolves anyway.”

“Right. Come on then,” Dean tells the archangel, who opens the door and gets out instead of zapping.

“What, no flying?” Dean asks Gabriel.

“Never show your enemy all your tricks,” Gabriel advises. “Now let’s go show those dogs who’s boss.”

Dean looks after him with a mystified expression, wondering if he was ever going to work the archangel out. It had taken him a long time with Cas, so it is probably going to take a long time with him. And frankly, Dean doesn’t want to hang around the archangel for much longer. He’s already on his nerves.

“Who’s he?” Madison asks, looking at Gabriel. She inhales and her eyes narrow. “He’s not human.”

“He’s someone who won’t leave no matter how much I tell him to,” Dean grumbles, going around to the back of the Impala and opening the trunk.

“I don’t bite, promise,” Gabriel snarks. “Unlike you.”

“Gabriel, shut your mouth, or I will stab you,” Dean threatens, taking a few silver knives out and putting them in places where he could grab them easily.

“You don’t keep very nice company Dean,” Madison sniffs. “You should leash your pet.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, I am not his _pet_ ,” Gabriel says, affronted.

“Are you sure about that?” Madison says, obviously enjoying teasing the angel. “You’re more powerful than him, and you’re following him, so he has some hold over you.”

“The only reason I’m here is because my younger brother likes this one human for some reason, and I’m making sure the idiot doesn’t get himself killed while he’s absent.”

“Hey!” Dean shouts. “I can hear you.”

Gabriel continues like Dean didn’t interrupt. “And because I don’t like werewolves, and any excuse to smite some is good enough for me. So don’t give me an excuse,” he huffs, looking down at her even though he’s shorter.

“Smite?” The werewolf says, laughing at him. “What are you, an angel?”

“Maybe I am,” Gabriel retaliates coolly, and Dean step in between them before they can start fighting each other.

“Gabriel. Calm the fuck down or fuck off. I don’t really care which. Madison. He can kill everything in a twelve mile radius with a click of his fingers, so don’t piss him off.”

“It’s more than twelve miles,” Gabriel sulks.

Madison rolls her eyes. “Whatever. As long as he helps tonight and I never have to see him again.”

Dean lifts his eyes to the sky. This is going to be harder than he thought.

“Look, we all have the same purpose here,” he reminds them. “And that’s to kick some werewolf ass. We need to co-operate for that, okay?”

Madison and Gabriel cast him twin glares of unhappiness, but both of them nod slowly, turning their glare on each other. Dean rubs a hand over his face briefly, looking at Madison’s hanger’s on, who are growling at Gabriel. _Why can’t my life ever be easy?_

“The place is an apartment building that they’ve rented out all for themselves. They’re a big pack, but inexperienced and undisciplined. That’s why we’re hitting them now.” Madison’s eyes dart to Gabriel every few seconds, like she doesn’t trust the archangel not to fry her. To be honest, Dean isn’t sure that he’s not going to.

“They in walking distance?” Dean asks, and Madison nods.

“That’s why we’ve been eating at this place for the past few days. It’s the nearest we can be to the apartment block without raising suspicion.”

“You’d think that they’d notice another pack in town,” Dean mutters, checking all his gear.

Madison shrugs. “Like I said. Amateurs. They have no idea what’s going on, or what’s happening to them. Their leader is a crazy fanatic, who only wants to convert others to his nutso religion.”

“Sounds like this guy could use a prank or two,” Gabriel says happily. “Lead the way.”

Madison frowns at him, but shrugs. “We’re going to turn in a few minutes, and then we’re heading out.” She points to the horizon, and Dean can see the beginning of a lightness, where the moon would rise. “As soon as she’s up, we’re gone. Just try to stay out of our way.”

“What, no blue food dye this time?” Dean asks. Madison raises her eyebrows.

“We can tell who’s who just by scent. Think of it like this… If they’re trying to kill you, then you can shoot them.”

“Sounds like my type of fun,” Dean mutters reluctantly. They all wait, until, one by one, Madison and her pack start dropping to the ground. There’s a minute delay while they somehow double in size and grow fur. Gabriel shakes his head.

“And you think that what _I_ do is weird. But I’ve never turned a seventy kilo girl into a two hundred kilo beast. Physically, it’s impossible. That’s one of the reasons I don’t really like them. They bend reality with their magic.”

“What, like you do?” Dean replies dryly.

Gabriel puffs up his chest. “What I do is far above this.”

Madison sits up and raises her head, howling to the moon. Suddenly the clearing swarms with werewolves, and Dean’s first instinct is to go on a shooting rampage. Kill all the unnatural creatures with his bullets, and then get out the sword that is cool against his chest and stab the being next to him as well. Rid the world of a few problems.

He takes a breath and calms it. Madison is leading them to other wolves, ones that aren’t so disciplined, ones who kill and turn innocent people for kicks. Them first.

The wolves start to stream from the clearing, and Dean and Gabriel start following them at a run.

“They said it wasn’t far,” Dean pants, after five minutes of running. Gabriel’s shorter legs should have slowed him down, but he isn’t even breathing hard, and Dean takes a moment to hate him for it.

“Shouldn’t hunters be in better shape?” The archangel asks innocently, and Dean scowls at him.

“Stop questioning me! I’m a fine hunter.”

“Apparently, only if it doesn’t involve running. I think maybe you eat a few too many burgers for your own good Dean.”

Teasing him. The fucking archangel is teasing him, while he runs down a road after a pack of werewolves, to kill other werewolves. When did this become his life?

“Shut up,” Dean growls. Or at least, he attempts to. The words come out in harsh breaths, and sound a lot less intimidating than he wants them to.

Gabriel throws his head back and laughs, and Dean wants to kill something already. Where is that apartment building?

The wolves eventually gather outside a building with no lights on, situated away from other buildings in the area. Dean hopes that someone doesn’t call the cops when there’s a whole bunch of wolves inside, trying to kill each other.

Madison sniffs around the entrance – he can tell it’s her because she is grey with black paws and ears – before huffing to the others. Dean gets his breath back while they apparently argue, taking his time to count them all. They’re moving, but he thinks that there’s about twenty. Not something to argue with lightly.

The werewolves start running towards the forest behind the building, and Dean takes a moment to swear lightly to himself. Gabriel grins at it.

“Apparently they all went for a little midnight stroll in the woods. How do you feel about forests in the night Dean?”

“I hate them,” Dean mutters, taking his gun out from where it had been stashed. Gabriel draws his blade, and Dean notes that it’s different to both Cas’s and the one Cas gave him. It’s longer, and shimmers with light when he looks at it out of the corner of his eye, and there’s more engraving around the hilt.

Gabriel sees him looking and shrugs as they approach the forest. “Archangel issue,” he comments, and Dean nods.

Dean pauses before the first of the trees, takes a deep breath, and then walks in.

The moonlight doesn’t penetrate as well here, and it’s a lot harder to see. Dean tries to keep his eyes open as he picks his way through the trees, trying to have his eyes adjust to the light. There’s no other sounds besides the noise he makes, and since he can only assume that there would be noise if there is a fight going on, he thinks that the werewolves are trying to find where the other pack is.

God. It would be awkward if they’re so far in that Dean and Gabriel get there just as the fight finishes, just because it’s a ridiculous way through this damn forest.

A howl splits the night somewhere to their left, and both of them adjust for it, heading towards where the sound came from as silently as they can manage.

Dean picks up his pace when he starts to hear the sounds of fighting. Gabriel matches it, and soon they come across a small clearing where the fighting is centred, although it had spilled into the woods around it.

Dean clicks the safety off on his gun and starts shooting. Gabriel sucks in a breath beside him before running into the fray, suddenly becoming a figure of leaping grace and elegance as he strikes his way through the werewolves.

Dean hears a sound next to him and is bowled over by a werewolf, his gun going flying somewhere in the bushes. The werewolf’s eyes glint above him, and he’s suddenly reminded of being in this position and getting his guts ripped apart. With the way things were between them right now, Cas probably wouldn’t come to his rescue.

So he yanks the angel blade out of his jacket and starts stabbing.

The werewolf yelps in pain as soon as the silver touches it, and that stops the jaws that were descending for his neck for a few seconds. Dean pulls the blade out and tries again, aiming for the heart.

He must hit, because it goes slack above him, and Dean sucks in a breath before he’s crushed by the dead weight of a dead werewolf. He frantically tries to push it off him, hearing the approaching sounds of another wolf, but it is big, and there’s no way he can move it without help.

The werewolf is pushed off him, and Dean pants frantically, trying to regain his breath as he looks at the disappearing form of Madison. Soon there’s the low growls of a fight in that direction, and Dean smiles for a second.

He hunts around for a minute and finds his gun, thanking whoever is up there that he isn’t anyone’s top priority. He can see Gabriel facing off against two werewolves at once, and there are too many bodies on the ground to count. Some are still wolves, meaning that they’re only injured, but he can see a lot of human forms scattered around, including one of the goons that had been behind Madison.

He carefully aims and takes out a werewolf that had been about to jump on Gabriel, and then touches the blade in its sheath against his chest. The reassuring weight of it hangs there, and he keeps shooting.

The moon is over head by the time the fighting ends. As far as Dean can tell, Madison’s pack won, because no one is trying to eat him yet, and none of the wolves are fighting each other anymore. They go around and investigate the fallen wolves, killing most of them, whether they’re pack or not. Survival of the fittest, Dean supposes.

Gabriel comes out of the trees near Dean, untouched by the carnage around them except for a bright bloom of arterial blood that cut across his chest. Dean wishes he were that lucky. He can feel himself dripping with blood and sweat, and he can feel the places where he’s covered in dirt.

“Is that it?” Dean asks warily. Gabriel shrugs.

“Looks like.” He summons a piece of candy and starts eating it with relish. When Dean looks at him out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel looks slightly embarrassed.

“What?” He asks. “I get hungry after I fight. And that was a pretty good fight. It’s not often that I get to let loose.” He links his arms together and stretches, popping his fingers above his head.

There’s sudden commotion down the other end of the clearing, and both Gabriel and Dean make their way towards it. There’s a fallen werewolf snapping his jaws at anyone that comes close, but there’s a fatal wound in his leg, and he’s bleeding out slowly. The werewolf gradually shrinks and loses his fur, until there’s a naked man with a cut across his wrist panting in the moonlight.

“You’ll never win against the Alpha!” He screeches loudly, and Dean takes a step back out of reflex. There’s a mad look in the guy’s eye, and it makes Dean nervous. “He can make new packs that are completely loyal to him so quickly, you’ll never be able to kill them all!” He starts laughing manically, and Dean shivers. “You’re all going to die! All of you! All who don’t serve the Alpha will die! And then we’re going to kill every human, and everyone will be a werewolf!” He launches himself at one of the wolves next to him, but Madison appears and crunches her teeth down around his neck. Dean looks on uneasily as the man slumps between her jaws. Madison lets out a few huffing sounds, and the werewolves start squabbling among themselves. If Dean has to guess, they’re arguing about who gets to eat who. Gross.

Madison slowly walks over to them and starts nudging them out of the clearing. Dean is all too happy to oblige.

Dean thinks about what the guy was saying as they walk back to some semblance of civilisation. Assuming that he was the alpha, that meant he had been turned by this ‘Alpha.’ Is there any credence in his words, or was he just bat crap crazy? He had seemed pretty out of it right at the end there, but if Dean was bleeding out, surrounded by his enemies, he’d want to freak them out as well, and he didn’t think that he’d be entirely in his right mind.

He sighs quietly as they come out of the woods and start heading back to the bar, where the Impala is. Just another thing to add to the pile of stuff that’s going wrong these days.

He’s tired, and it takes longer to reach the bar when they aren’t running. Gabriel gets in beside him, and Dean tries not to wince as he probably spreads blood and shit everywhere in his baby. He strokes a hand over her steering wheel and silently promises her a good look over when he gets somewhere that has the right tools.

It’s nearly three, and Dean hopes that there’s either no one in reception, or that they’re asleep. He gets his wish when they walk in and see the teenager fast asleep on the desk. They walk quietly past him, and Gabriel pauses outside his door.

“Come on Dean. Lemme in.” Gabriel waggles his eyebrows and takes a bite out of the chocolate in his hand. Dean scowls at the archangel while he’s unlocking the door. But when he’s inside, he takes some of his blood from where he’d gotten clawed and wipes it across the glyph.

Gabriel happily struts inside and looks around as Dean lays all his first aid on the table and starts cleaning the claw marks in his arm and thigh.

“You gonna tell me anything about this ‘Alpha’ thing?” Dean asks, having to look up at the usually shorter archangel. “I know you know something. I could see it when that werewolf was talking.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Maybe, but I’m not going to tell you. Where’s the fun in that?”

Dean resists the urge to punch the shorter man.                                                                                

“Then are you going to tell me about anything else that’s been going on? What the angel’s really want? Why Cas won’t answer my questions, but he’s teaching me how to use this?” Dean touches the angel blade in his jacket lightly. There’s probably still blood on it from where he stabbed the werewolf, and he really should clean it. Does angelic metal rust? The way his luck is going, it probably does.

Gabriel purses his mouth and stares at Dean for a few seconds before answering, his tone serious, not the light hearted joking that had been going on for the last day. “Look kid, you’ve been misled.”

Dean forces himself not to comment on the kid part of his sentence. “About what?”

Gabriel takes a bite out of the chocolate bar in his hand. “A lot of things. Castiel probably didn’t want to lie to you, but he didn’t know how to tell you. So I’ll save him some trouble and speak plainly now.

“There’s a reason I left, and it wasn’t Raziel dying. That was the last straw, really. There’s been ranks of angels inside Heaven working against the other angels for centuries now. I don’t know what they want, or what they’ve been promised. All I know is that they support Hell’s side in this fight.”

“What fight?” Dean demands, wanting to know more now that someone was finally talking to him, his hand pausing where he’s threading a needle for a second before he gets it through the eye..

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “What fight do you think? The one that’s gone on forever, between Heaven and Hell, the one that probably won’t ever end. Heaven has been winning for the last forever, but in recent years, Hell has gained the upper hand. There’s only one way that Heaven can regain its superiority over Hell, and the only way that Hell can cement their win.” Gabriel pauses, obviously enjoying the suspense that he is creating. Dean ties off the stitch, and starts on the next one, waiting for Gabriel to continue.

“And that is?” Dean presses, when it’s clear that the archangel isn’t going to say anything else.

Gabriel winks at him. “The Sword of my late elder brother, Raziel. It fell to earth when we were ambushed, and he was killed. Heaven and Hell have been trying to find it ever since.”

“And when was this?”

Gabriel shrugs. “Oh, it was a contributing factor to some war of yours. I wasn’t really focusing on it, since I was holed up, trying to heal my wounds and stay away from demons. A ‘Great War,’ or something. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that the hell spawn from downstairs are closer to finding it than the Heavenly Host are.”

“And then why did they go to the FBI?” Dean inquires, trying to ignore the fact that angels and demons probably started World War One. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. He pours some disinfectant over his arm, and winces as it burns. Shaking it off, he considers his ruined jeans before cutting them open further so he can get to the claw marks in his left thigh.

Gabriel gives him a considering look. “A few reasons. They used their status to persuade your government into helping them look for certain signs and symbols that could serve to show them where Raziel’s sword is, or where ingredients to disable the protection around the sword is. When its owner dies, wherever it lands, it constructs barriers that are pretty damn tough to get through, not to mention that it doesn’t want to be found in the first place.”

“So in summary, angels are working for demons, and everyone’s trying to find some sword to win the war that’s been going on for as long as anyone can remember?” Dean rubs his face, resisting the urge to throw his hands up incredulously. There’s a needle in one of them, and it’s attached to his leg.

“Basically, yeah,” Gabriel says, tossing the chocolate wrapper over his shoulder and conjuring a new one, unwrapping it as if it was the most important thing in the world.

 _What the fuck is happening to my life._ He’s gone from being a normal hunter to dealing with issues between Heaven and Hell that have been going on since before who knows when. Not to mention the fact that he’s going to have to ask Bobby and Charlie to do some research on Alphas, and what they meant in the grand scheme of things. Only him. This could only happen to him. He ties off one stitch and starts the next one.

“You should go back to your human headquarters. Castiel knows where to find you there, you’re safeish there, you know, and you’ll be happy or whatever. Just go back. You can watch the angels better from there anyway.”

Dean looks at him disbelievingly. Then he sighs and runs a hand over his face. The last cut shouldn’t need stitching, so he puts everything away. He thinks about what Gabriel said as he does it. It has been a month. Maybe it’s time to get back to the office. He’s hunted, travelled, and put up with an archangel for a day. That sounds like a wild holiday in anyone’s books.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “I’ll go back. But not because you said so.”

“Of course not,” Gabriel smirks. “Tell Castiel that I was around, okay?”

“Okay,” Dean mutters to empty air. The archangel had already disappeared.

He tiredly packs up his gear and has a shower, washing the grime from him before crashing on the bed for a few hours. In the morning, he bleaches the wall of his blood, and loads everything into the Impala, ready for the drive back to Phoenix.

It’s going to be a long way without his angel by his side.


	12. Shedding Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel reveals why he was absent for a month, and also tells Dean about everything that Gabriel would not.

Castiel groans, forcing his eyes open. Balthazar is sitting against the opposite wall, and his vessel is dead. Castiel cannot summon the Grace to see if the angel inhabiting it is as well. There’s a deep stain of red covering his shirt, and Castiel remembers Poliel stabbing Balthazar in their frantic flight to get away.

They’re in one of the small hiding holes that Balthazar had carved out over the eons. The other angel had painstakingly moved atoms and infused them with Grace so that only he could access the space that they created. Right now, they’re in a small white marble room with gold trimmings. It’s very Balthazar.

His vessel is bleeding slowly, and his right wing is broken. A stab of pain goes through him when he moves it.

He starts small, by trying to move his fingers. They all seem to be functional, so then his arms. Toes. Legs. But when he tries to move them all at once to sit up, a ripple of agony goes through his torso. He must have been knifed somewhere.

There had been angels that Castiel had recognised in their celestial forms that came after them. Some from his own garrison. Omichel. Poliel. Muriel _._ Their betrayal rocks him.

_Uriel._

Castiel clenches his hands and squeezes his eyes shut. He had never expected the other angel to betray him. Uriel had been his friend.

Had been. After he had wounded Castiel, Castiel had stabbed him in return. And he hadn’t missed, like Uriel had. Castiel had always been the better swordsman out of the two of them.

He had killed Omichel as well. Muriel is dead by Balthazar’s hand. Poliel is still alive, had been one of those to follow Balthazar’s frantic flight after Castiel’s wing had been broken. They had been unable to follow them inside the pocket, but Castiel is sure that they are still outside.

Castiel looks at his tie to Heaven. It is a thin thing, and had been fraying over the past few weeks even more than usual. Dean kissing him had not helped matters. It had been how the other angel’s had tracked him. If they’re going to escape, it needs to be gone. He takes a breath and cuts it.

Castiel clenches his eyes shut, trying to cope with the sudden absence of the Host. He breathes through it, thinking of Dean. Dean, who had kissed him. Dean, who is in danger from his siblings. Dean, who he needs to protect.

Castiel starts dragging himself to his friend’s side, ignoring the hole inside him and the rocking of his Grace, wanting to see if Balthazar is still alive. If he touches him, then he would be able to know.

He collapses next to the other angel, breathing heavily and with a Grace that is protesting inside of him. It rocks and churns, and he tries to ignore it.

Just as Castiel about to reach out and touch Balthazar, his hand shoots up and Castiel hisses as Grace rushes through him, healing his vessel and infusing his wing with the energy it needs to click and fuse back together, the bones painfully mending themselves. Castiel feels his nails biting into his palms as he tries not to make any noise.

When he can move, he looks back up at Balthazar. The other angel is smiling ruefully, eyes half closed, looking at his handiwork.

“What did you do?” Castiel asks, horrified. Balthazar had had hardly any reserves to start with, and healing another angel’s wounds is no small task.

“What I had to,” Balthazar grunts. “Now you can fight, and fly. You’ll be able to get out of here.”

“I will not leave without you,” Castiel tells him, looking hopelessly as the other angel slumps over, head knocking on the ground. Castiel moves him so he’s more comfortable, but Balthazar simply smiles at him, lips stretched over his teeth in a grimace, the white stained with blood.

“Well, you’re going to have to,” Balthazar mumbles.

“No,” Castiel says, shaking his head. “No, I won’t.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” Balthazar chides. “Don’t waste my Grace. I wasn’t going to make it anyway. Better to use it for a greater cause.”

Castiel watches as Balthazar’s life energy starts to ease out of the wound that an angel had dealt him.

“Old friend…” Castiel says, refusing to acknowledge what is happening.

“The plan, Castiel. You need to tell your human about the plan,” Balthazar coughs, blood oozing over his lip and dribbling out over his chin. “Tell him… how you,” he coughs again. More blood comes up. “How you feel. And make sure you… you kill every demon you can get your hands on.” Cough. More blood. There’s a puddle by his head now. “You win this. You use the human Castiel.” Balthazar’s eyes glint. “He will choose correctly, but you need to tell him everything. Don’t let your new emotions… rule you.” Balthazar pauses, but he’s too tired to cough now. Castiel watches in fear as more Grace starts to spill. “There’s a reason he’s so special. Don’t… don’t let that go to waste. Don’t let him go to waste.”

“He deserves better,” Castiel hisses.

Balthazar closes his eyes and stops breathing, not bothering to use the energy. The vessel is dead anyway.

_You are his better, Cassie. You were always better than me. Now do the right thing. You know, in your heart, that it’s the right thing. He would want it. That’s the type of human he is. I always…_

_Balthazar?_ Castiel cries out, frightened.

Balthazar just sounds tired when he continues, so softly that Castiel has to strain to hear him.

_I always admired that. You are the same. Always wanting to make other’s lives better. Use your time Castiel, and treasure it. But in the end, he is the one who will make that choice. Not you. And you don’t want him to hate you when someone else tells him what the stakes of the game really are. You know the right way Cassie. Don’t be selfish. Please._

_Balthazar…_ Castiel says quietly. Balthazar’s wings twitch, like they know what’s about to happen.

_Thank you, for everything Cassie. Truly… Thank you…_

Castiel shields his eyes with the crook of his elbow as a blaze of Grace bursts from the dying angel in front of him.

“Balthazar!” He wails. But the other angel’s wings are painted black across the ground, and there’s nothing left besides his whispered words and a vessel that once held something more.

~*~*~*~

“Okay then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Charlie’s voice sounds tinny over the phone, and Dean finds himself wanting to hear the real thing. He hasn’t spoken to Charlie properly in a month, and the weeks of isolation are beginning to drag on him.

“Sure,” he replies. “See you then.”

Charlie makes a satisfied noise before she hangs up, and Dean looks at the phone for a second with a bemused expression. He gets out of the Impala and stretches, feeling his spine pop a few times. Then he opens the boot and gets out everything that he’s going to take up to his apartment, so he won’t have to make two trips.

He fumbles with the keys in front of his door, the bags in his hands making it difficult to open it. Dean unlocks his door and then closes it behind him, making sure that all of the precautions are in place before turning around in time to see Cas appear next to the wall with a flutter of wings, looking at the ground and swaying slightly.

Dean blinks, hardly believing what’s in front of his eyes. “Cas?” Dean asks hesitantly, looking at the angel. He tries to stop the swell of emotions. He’s glad to see him, of course. It’s been a month. But then again, the last time they were together, Dean had kissed him, and Cas had run off without saying anything about it. He can’t be happy with Dean if he had stayed away that long. Dean’s worried, and not just about the whole problem that’s between them. There’s a stain of arterial blood that cut across the front of his coat, stained a deep red. Dean can see rips in the shirt and the darker patches on his pants are probably blood as well. _Shit._

As mad as Dean is to have Cas disappear from his life for a _whole fucking month_ – you just don’t do that to people, _especially_ someone you had kissed for the first time – he isn’t mad enough to ignore the fact that Cas looks like he’s been in a few serious fights. So before there’s any talking – oh, and there will be talking, even if Dean isn’t normally into that touchy feely crap – Cas is going to get clean, and Dean is going to make sure that none of that blood is his.

He turns and dumps his bags on the kitchen bench before Cas says anything.

“Hello Dean,” Cas says tiredly. “It’s good to see you.”

That throws Dean. “Where have you been?” He says, and the words come out harsher and filled with a lot more pain than he wants them to. He blinks and shakes his head slightly, as if that could wash away the emotions behind them.

Cas flinches slightly. “How much time has passed?” He asks, looking around the apartment.

“A month,” Dean replies.

“Oh.”

Dean bites back the urge to snap at that. “Yeah. Oh.”

Cas looks away, and Dean takes a moment to look over the angel. He looks tired, and more than tired. Dean doesn’t say anything else, watching Cas and trying not to feel anything.

“Have you been here the whole time then?” Cas asks.

Dean shrugs with one shoulder. “I left, for a while. Road tripped. The werewolves are acting up, so I dealt with some of that. Ah, Gabriel came around, found me. Was looking for you, though. Managed to convince me to come back here, go back to work. I already called Charlie, and she probably told everyone else. I’m going back tomorrow. I didn’t know how to explain that you were missing.”

Cas looks at the ground for a second. “Balthazar and I were chased into one of the hiding places he has carved out for himself over the millennia. Time moves differently there. I was gone for far longer than I expected.” Cas looks back up at him. “I apologize.”

Dean can feel himself starting to thaw. “What, you went to Balthazar after leaving me?” _Leaving me after I had kissed you, your eyes so blue and wide and lips so soft –_

Dean cuts off that line of thought.

“Balthazar found me. But yes, we were immediately forced into hiding.”

“By who?”

Cas hesitates. Dean takes pity on the angel.

“Look, are you okay? You’re covered in blood.”

Cas looks down at himself and seems to realise that for the first time. “Oh,” he says quietly. He closes his eyes and the blood disappears – off the coat. He gently leans against the wall as Dean narrows his eyes in disbelief. He chooses to save the coat, of all things? It’s ratty and kind of run down looking…

But, try as he might, Dean can’t imagine the angel without it.

“Here,” he says gruffly. He walks over to Cas and pulls the trench coat off the angel. Cas doesn’t try to stop him, so he folds it roughly before dropping it on the ground. Cas watches him with half lidded eyes as Dean strips off his shirts – who wears four layers, what the fuck Cas – and drops them next to the coat. Dean then looks over the angel’s body, searching for the cuts that had torn through his shirt. They had been bloodied, but there was nothing there now. Dean assumes that that’s why Cas is tired – the angel had told him that healing wounds to his Grace is much more difficult than normal, non-angelic weapons. There’s still blood caked all over him though – and Cas isn’t in any position to clean himself, from what Dean is seeing. The angel has his eyes closed, and isn’t moving, no matter what Dean does. Dean has to stop himself from trailing his fingers over Cas’s skin, the desire to touch rearing its head inside him. He settles for one finger low on Cas’s stomach, tracing a dried blood stain, the blood flaking off under his fingers.

“Cas?” Dean says lowly.

Cas opens one eye. “Yes Dean?”

“Do you want to have a shower? To get…” He waves at the dry blood. “All that off you?”

Cas lowers his eyebrows but nods slowly. Great. Now he’s going to have to walk Cas through that.

He hesitates before kneeling and taking off his shoes and socks. Cas lifts his feet when prompted, and doesn’t do anything when Dean’s hands touch his belt. Dean takes a breath and is clinical about it, stripping his trousers off next and slinging Cas’s arm over his shoulder, leading them to his bathroom.

“You know how to work this?” Dean asks gruffly, staring at anything that isn’t Cas and the miles and miles of skin that’s exposed.

“I… Yes, I think so.”

That’s good enough for Dean. He waits long enough to see that Cas isn’t going to fall over without support, and high tails it out of there, closing the door but not locking it. He waits until the sound of the shower starts before going to investigate Cas’s clothes.

He looks them over to distract himself from thinking about Cas, _naked_ in his _bathroom_ , having a _shower_ , _fuck_ , okay, the belt and shoes would be fine, they’re good leather, the blood wouldn’t stick to them, he could clean them.

The tie and shirts are screwed, though. Not only are there more cuts than seams in the shirts, the blood had settled deeply into them. There’s no point trying to get the stains out.

He dumps the unsavable clothes and looks at what he has left. The coat, a pair of shoes without the socks – what had Cas been doing, standing in a puddle of blood? – and a belt. His boxers hadn’t been stained though, which was a miracle in itself, so Cas could put those back on after he was done. After he was done showering. In Dean’s shower. Shit.

He’s going to need more clothes. Dean focuses on that instead of pondering whether Cas would want a helping hand in there. He rummages around in his closet until he finds a too-small shirt and some tracksuit pants, because Cas is thinner than he is.

He hesitates outside the door though. The shower is still running, and Dean has a sudden vision of Cas, in his weakened state, slipping and falling over. “Cas?” He calls out, trying to keep the worry from his voice.

“Yes Dean?” Cas answers, after a pause. Dean lets out the breath he had been holding.

“I’ve got some clothes for you. I’ll put them outside the door, okay?” Because Dean could not be near Cas without some clothes on. They hadn’t talked about anything yet, and if Cas didn’t want to do this…

Dean banishes the thought from his mind as Cas answers. “Very well.”

He retreats to the kitchen and pours himself a shot of whiskey, just to steel himself. He can see the bathroom door from the lounge room, so he is just going to stay here until he’s good and ready, thank you very much. And by good and ready, he meant until he knows for certain that Cas has some clothes on.

The bathroom door opens. Dean can tell by the massive cloud of steam that rolls out. What, had he just had the hot water on? He pours himself another shot and drains it before Cas comes into view.

He’s wearing an old AC/DC shirt that Dean had bought as a teenager and hadn’t had the heart to throw out. The pants are still too big, and he is holding them up with one hand – he hadn’t figured out that you could tighten it with the drawstring yet. Dean resists the urge to do it for him. He raises his eyebrows when Cas immediately goes to where he had dumped the coat, and shrugs it back on.

Dean meanders into the lounge room and over to Cas, looking at the angel.

“You feeling better?”

Cas nods. “Yes, thank you. What did you do with the rest of my clothes?”

“Ah, they were kinda ruined. So I put them where I put the rest of the clothes that get soaked with blood go.” He points to his trash, and Cas blinks.

“Oh. Very well.”

There’s an awkward pause. Cas stares at the floor and Dean rubs the back of his neck.

“Gabriel told me some stuff, when he talked to me,” he says, breaking the silence. Cas looks up at him, and Dean wants to know what Gabriel wouldn’t tell him. What else is going on?

Cas blinks, covering his blue eyes for a second. “What?”

Dean lets the silence lay for a few seconds before he speaks, recounting everything that the archangel had told him. Cas doesn’t move the entire time, merely watching him silently. When Dean finishes, he nods slowly.

“Gabriel did not tell you everything, as you likely suspect.”

Dean nods. “I have other questions, stuff that Gabriel wouldn’t answer.”

Cas nods slowly. “Of course,” he says. “Of course you do. Because you always do.”

Dean lowers his eyebrows. “What happened to you?” That’s the most pressing question at the moment. Cas doesn’t have his usual liveliness in his bright blue eyes, and Dean wants to know where Balthazar is, if they both came from one of his bolt holes.

Cas shakes his head slowly, looking away from Dean. “Balthazar found me, and we talked for a while about you, and other things. Then we were ambushed. Angels tried to kill us, probably hoping that with my death, our garrison would be unable to continue without a leader. We fought, but my wing was broken and Balthazar carried me to one of his hiding places while we were chased by my siblings. We hid there, and Balthazar used his Grace to heal me. It was not an easy task, and he had been severely injured while flying away with me.” Cas stops, still not looking at him.

“And?” Dean asks, when Cas hasn’t said anything for a minute.

Cas sighs softly. “Balthazar gave the last of his Grace to me so that I could heal. He did not leave with me when I fought my way out of where we were hiding.”

“Oh,” Dean says, looking at the sorrowful angel in front of him. He wants to gather Cas up in his arms and comfort him, but he can’t touch the angel, not until he knows what’s going on with them.

Cas closes his eyes briefly. “Balthazar told me that I must inform you of both my feelings and what the future holds for you.”

Dean doesn’t know which one of those he needs to hear first, so he stays silent.

“I…” Cas trails off. “Your soul is beautiful Dean. It sparkles and glimmers and shows who you are. I want to keep it all to myself, to protect you from those that would do you harm.”

“I don’t need protecting Cas,” Dean says lowly, trying not to get his hopes up.

Cas nods slowly. “I know. But still, I wish to give it to you.” The angel takes a few steps forward, so that if Dean leans forward a few centimetres, they wold be touching. He looks down at the shorter man, holding his breath. “I want to be able to do this,” Cas says, before leaning upwards slightly. Dean ducks his head so their lips can brush lightly across each other, as not breaking eye contact with him. “I want you, all to myself,” the angel breathes, the words skating across Dean’s skin and etching themselves into his heart.

Cas reaches up and places his hands on Dean’s shoulders, falling silent. Dean draws in a breath, his hands fluttering nervously before settling on Cas’s waist. He can do this. He can say everything that’s been bottled up inside him for the last few months.

“The first time I saw you in that cafeteria I thought you were hot,” Dean admits, fighting the urge to smile when Cas frowns. “When I found out you were an angel I was kinda mad that someone so nice looking was an angel. But it’s become more than that.” Dean swallows. “I like how you spend time with me even though you didn’t need to, and I like how you tilt your head when I make a reference you don’t get and how you taught me all this stuff that you probably shouldn’t. I like your eyes and how they seem to look through my bullshit and into the real me, like you’re doing now.” Cas blinks.

“I like it how you help me on hunts and I really appreciate your extensive knowledge of everything so I don’t have to do any research. I like how you eat the food that I make you, even when you don’t need to eat anything. I like how you use your time to teach me stuff so I don’t die sometime in the future. And I like doing this,” Dean says huskily, kissing Cas again. “I really like doing that.”

He doesn’t say anything about the warm feeling that rolls around in his heart when Cas is near, or how he feels safe when the angel is sitting next to him, safe like he hadn’t felt since before he had been abducted by Alastair.

Cas smiles. “I like that as well,” he says shyly.

“Good,” Dean says, before kissing him again. “Because I’m going to be doing a lot more of it.”

Cas nods solemnly, like they’re signing a contract.

“So we’re doing this then?” Dean asks.

Cas pauses, staring at him silently. “Yes. I believe that we are,” he states eventually.

Dean lets out a breath in relief. “Good. That’s good.” He bites his lip. “Before anything happens, there’s probably some things you should know,” Dean says quietly. He has to tell Cas about his childhood and everything about Alastair. Something like that can’t be unspoken in any kind of relationship.

Cas looks at him with a gentle look in his eyes. “I know what happened with Alastair Dean, and I know what you did as a child to provide your brother with food and shelter.”

Dean’s throat closes up, and he can’t breathe or speak. A strangled noise makes it way out of his throat, before he just kind of collapses backwards. He’s lucky that the couch was there, or he would have just flopped down onto the floor.

Cas is saying something, he thinks, but he can’t _think_. His breath is whistling out from between his lips, and his heart is the only thing he can hear, pounding in his ears. Cas sits down next to him and reaches out a hand to touch him, but Dean flinches away, hurriedly shuffling away from it. He doesn’t miss the hurt in Cas’ eyes, but he can’t help it. _You can’t just out and say something like that Cas._

The angel is looking at him with large, blue, concerned eyes. “Why not?” He asks, and Dean realises that he must have said the last part out loud. Cas’ voice is distant, like he’s talking through one of those microphone things that go through walls, but Dean is sure that it’s just him, not Cas.

Dean swallows, looking at the ground. He doesn’t say anything until he can control his breathing.

“How long have you known?” Dean asks, his voice scratchy.

Cas hesitates slightly. “I was here when you told Charlie about it.”

Dean whips his head around, staring at Cas. “What the hell? Most people respect someone else’s privacy Cas!”

Cas licks his lips, and Dean can’t help but follow the movement. “I did not have the capacity to understand that you might not have wanted me there Dean. I have changed, since I met you.”

Dean looks at the angel. Cas looks forlorn, staring at him with eyes that plead forgiveness.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I did not think it was important.” At Dean’s sceptical glance, Cas continues. “It does not define you Dean. You can feel the hurt that was inflicted upon you without feeling guilty. It was not something that you had to do, and if I ever meet John Winchester, I will rip his spine out through his mouth. You are not to blame,” Cas continues, lower. “For what they did to you. Either those men, or Alastair. It is not your fault that they felt the need to abuse you in the way that they did. Alastair especially.” Cas looks away for a second. “He never felt anything for you Dean, other than the twisted pleasure he received from tormenting such a bright and lovely soul. They could have chosen any lively souled person to complete their spell, and they had others as backup. Alastair never truly believed that you would become one of them. He just wanted to destroy something beautiful.” Cas shifts closer, but doesn’t touch him, not yet. “It is _not your fault_.”

Cas says the last sentence with so much authority, that Dean almost believes him. Almost.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I deserved it. For all the people that I didn’t save, for the demons that were released when I couldn’t stop Meg from opening that portal, for all the hurt they caused. I deserved it, for not wanting Sam to leave for Stanford, for enjoying life when so many are dead by my hand, for enjoying doing what I did to those people when Alastair possessed me.” Dean curls his hand into a fist, staring at it. “I don’t deserve you either. You’re an angel, and larger than life, and _you_ are the one who is beautiful Cas. You should go and find someone who can match you for your goodness.”

Cas’ eyes turn flinty with anger. “Maybe I have Dean,” he spits. “Maybe I have found someone who I think could be the one that I look up to, the one who I think is better than me, who makes me want to be better.”

“Good,” Dean says tiredly. “Then go and spend your life with them.”

There’s a long silence, which lasts until Dean looks at the angel again. Cas looks lost, and he feels a stab of regret. He doesn’t want the angel to go. He would miss Cas with his whole soul, but the angel deserves better than to be dragged down into the dirt and filth of his life.

Cas lays a hand over his lightly, and Dean stares at the place that they connect, only looking up when Cas speaks.

“It is you,” the blue eyed man says softly. “You are the one who makes me better. You are the most beautiful soul that I have ever seen, and that you even deign to be near me makes me feel.”

Dean casts a confused look at the angel when he doesn’t finish the sentence. “Makes you feel what?”

Cas bites his lip for half a second. “Everything, Dean. Angels are not meant to feel anything, but you have made me feel _everything_.”

Dean’s breath stutters, and he looks at Cas wonderingly. “Cas…” He says, trailing off. The angel smiles for half a second.

“I have seen your soul Dean,” the angel says. “You carry so much that you don’t need to. Please let it go.” Cas lets out a small breath. “Forgive yourself for what is not is your fault. Feel what you need to feel. It is not a weakness,” he whispers. Cas slides closer, and Dean turns towards the angel, resting his head lightly against Cas’. Cas doesn’t blink.

“I… I don’t know…” Dean doesn’t know what to say. He looks at the angel, lost.

Cas’s face softens slightly. He brings a hand up to touch Dean’s face, stroking over his cheek for a second. “This is not something that happens right away Dean. Think about it, and heal, without need for my help. Without me having to banish the darkness that claws for purchase in your soul.”

Dean looks at the angel for another few seconds, considering what he’s saying. He swallows. If Cas really does think all of that… Maybe he could be right. Maybe.

“I’ll think about it,” Dean says hoarsely. Cas does his twitch version of a smile, and it eases something in him to see it.

Dean turns Cas’s head, and kisses him lightly. The angel makes a happy sound, gathering the material of Dean’s shirt in one hand while the other slowly moves back into his hair.

Dean wants to mess up the angel, but he isn’t sure Cas is ready for that yet, so he stops at one kiss, pressing his forehead against his. Dean closes his eyes, but he’s sure that Cas still has his open, staring at him.

“You gonna explain everything else?” Dean asks.

There’s silence, and Dean lets it lie while Cas sorts out his thoughts.

“Are there angels taking advantage of humans? The traitors that you told me about?” Dean asks, giving him somewhere to start.

“Yes,” Cas says, voice gravelly against him. “It was one of the reasons that we chose to interact with you.”

“Are they going to come after you and try to finish the job?” Dean asks. He’s going to have to warn Rufus about the angels, as soon as he can. But they need to talk about everything else first, so he files it under ‘things that need to be done.’

Cas nods. “Most likely. I will have to leave tomorrow. I will try and visit if I can, but it will be difficult, as they will likely be watching this apartment, if they aren’t already. I don’t think that I will be able to come often.”

Dean lifts an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Who do you think I am?” He’s not losing Cas. Not again. And he’d been thinking about a change for a while.

Cas blinks a few times. “What?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not letting you go on the run by yourself Cas.”

Cas faces him, and Dean sees the dawning comprehension go over his face. “It will be difficult,” he warns.

Dean rolls his eyes. “I can carry everything we need in the Impala. Easy.”

Cas hesitates. “If you are sure?” He asks tentatively.

“Of course Cas,” Dean says, kissing him lightly. “Of course I’m coming with you. Now tell me what the other reason is.”

Cas is silent. “Cas,” Dean says warningly.

“I will tell you when you have less on your mind. You need to be able to sort through the information properly then.”

“I can deal,” Dean grouses.

“I will tell you other things now,” Cas tells him.

“Fine,” Dean says. “Tell me about Raziel’s sword. What are the ingredients to get to it?”

“There are too many to list. After the Sword is found, the spell to dismantle the protections surrounding it is immensely intricate and the ingredients are extremely rare and difficult to procure, even for an angel or demon. The problem for us is that there are components that angels cannot find, but demons can. The same is true for them however. There are some things that they cannot find but we can. And then there are some that we have to chance across, as neither of us can find them. That’s why we need humans, to look for some ingredients for the spell.”

“Then how do you find the sword itself?” Dean asks.

“There are several steps. The map that Alastair had was one of them. We have completed several steps of our own, and I suspect that the location of the sword will be revealed in the next few months. After that, likely there will be an unending battle outside it while each side tries to locate all of the components first so they can complete the spell and take the sword.”

“Any catches?”

Cas doesn’t say anything, so Dean cracks open an eye. “There is a catch, isn’t there?”

Cas nods reluctantly. “The person to complete the final step of the spell must be a human. A very special human, one that only appears every few centuries. A human who is in possession of a Righteous Soul.”

“Whoever they are, they must be pretty extraordinary.”

“Yes,” Cas says softly. “They are.”

“So you know who it is then?”

Cas nods slowly. “Yes.”

“Do they know?”

He shakes his head. “No. Not yet. But…” He starts, and then stops.

“What?” Dean asks.

Cas looks away. “He should not need to. The Righteous Soul is so very special because they are the only ones who can be a vessel for Michael. Michael will perform the ritual, since the Righteous Soul would not know how to, and he will claim Raziel’s sword.”

“Wait, Michael, like, _the_ Michael?” Dean says, stunned.

Cas nods. “Yes. My eldest brother.”

“That’s not how vessels normally work though, right?”

“No. Usually it is through bloodlines. But Michael needs powerful vessels, and those with Righteous Souls are particularly resilient. So, the vessel only needs to say yes, and let Michael possess him, and Michael will complete the ritual, claim Raziel’s Sword, and defeat Hell’s army with it.”

Dean squints at Cas. “Why do you sound so broken up over it? I mean, yeah, I wouldn’t say yes, but whoever this guy is, once you explain what’s going on, he’s definitely going to say yes. I mean, beating back Hell is pretty important.”

Cas looks away. “That is not all. Usually when we leave our vessels, their souls are still inside, and can be released when they are no longer needed. But Michael is so powerful, that he burns out whoever he is using as a vessel. He uses the power of their soul to boost his own reserves, and destroys the soul completely in the process.”

Dean shakes his head. “That’s crazy.”

“He would definitely do it for the ritual,” Cas whispers. “He would need all the power he could get.”

“So this Righteous guy, he needs to finish it? Why?”

Cas shrugs, still not looking at him. “It is simply a condition of the Sword. It must be wielded by someone with a Righteous Soul. Raziel represented Righteousness, just as Michael represents Truth and Strength, and how Gabriel represents Justice. It is just something that is needed for the ritual to be completed.”

“That sucks.”

Cas nods.

“Hey,” Dean says, putting a hand under his chin and lifting his head until Cas is looking him in the eyes. “I’m sure it’s going to work out.”

Cas swallows, looking at him with his wide eyes, bluer than the sky in summer on a cloudless day. They’re filled with sadness, looking at Dean as if he’s about to disappear any moment. Dean tightens his fist, somehow knowing what’s going to come out of Cas’s mouth before he speaks.

“It is you Dean,” Cas says. He leans back and shakes his head wildly, as if wanting to refuse the words even as they spill from his mouth. “You have the most brilliant soul I have ever seen,” he confesses. “But it doesn’t belong to me. Michael’s mark is on you, even though he has never seen you before. I want to erase it and take you away and stop all this from happening but –”

“Cas,” Dean says, his mouth dry. His hands are shaking slightly as he cover’s his hands over the angel’s, pulling him to press against him. Cas lets out a small broken sound, and Dean buries his face in his hair, trying not to think. “We’ll figure something out, I promise. Everything’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“You cannot know that,” Cas says, voice trembling. “You cannot know that it’s going to be okay.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Dean whispers fiercely, trying to make it true with his determination, trying to ignore the fear filling him, making his gut heavy and chill. Cas’s hands grip onto him tighter, as if the angel could keep him safe with him.

They sit like that for a few minutes, Dean closing his eyes and trying to block out the world, trying to focus on the angel in his arms only.

“I’m tired,” Dean says softly, without opening his eyes. Sleep sounds good. Sleep means he can rest, and he doesn’t have to think about what Cas had told him. Doesn’t have to think about anything. “Come to bed with me.” He stands and drags Cas up with him, the angel still clinging to him. “Come on.”

Dean pushes off Cas’s coat and shucks his own excess clothes off. Cas watches as Dean turns down the covers and lays down before Dean can, leaving Dean to curl up into the warm shape Cas makes. Cas sighs contentedly into Dean’s hair as Dean grips the back of Cas’s shirt in his hand, making sure that the angel couldn’t go anywhere in his sleep without Dean knowing about it.

~*~*~*~

There’s a body pressed up against him when he wakes. Dean opens his eyes slowly, blinking a few times before sliding his gaze down to the angel laying against his chest.

He’s on his back, and Cas has his head pillowed against his chest, head rising and falling with every one of Dean’s small breaths. A smile twitches the side of his mouth, and he brings a hand up to weave it through Cas’s hair. The soft strands feel good, and Dean sighs softly, letting his eyes slide shut again, happy to sleep with Cas here.

The angel had come back to him. Had told him that his feelings were returned.

Although it had come with a lot of other crap. But Dean would take all that crap and more if it meant that he had Cas. He ignores the quietly panicking voice inside him that’s telling him to flee, to get away as fast as he could, to try and run from what Cas had told him. To run from an archangel trying to make him their meatsuit, to run from having his soul _burned from existence_.

Fuck. He is so screwed.

“Are you awake?” Cas asks, his voice rumbling lowly and rough from sleep. Dean can’t help the smile that covers his face.

“Yeah,” he murmurs quietly. “How long have you been laying there awake?”

Cas pauses. “Forty three minutes.”

“Most people would have moved by then.” Dean tries not to think about the fact that Cas had basically just admitted to sleeping. Since when do angels sleep? He had been sure that that other time was just a one off thing, but apparently not.

“I am not most people,” Cas says, sounding affronted. Dean chuckles softly, opening his eyes and looking down at Cas. The angel has an annoyed look on his face, his eyebrows drawn together slightly. Dean moves his other arm to the angel’s back and rolls them over, shuffling down slightly so he can kiss Cas. The angel kisses back, trying to follow Dean when he moves his mouth down, trailing his lips over Cas’s jaw.

“You kissing me does not make up for your comment,” Cas grumbles, letting Dean push a leg between his. Dean smiles, pressing it against Cas’s skin and flicking his tongue out to taste the soft skin over his throat. Cas’s breath hitches slightly, his pulse jumping.

“I think it’s cute. It’s something that you would do.”

That seems to mollify Cas slightly, and he leans up for another kiss. Dean obliges, feeling Cas’ hands slowly move up him to cup his face while they kiss. Dean is a little less sweet, anchoring himself to the body under him by knotting a hand in the angel’s hair and gripping his hip with the other.

Dean keeps his kisses light, knowing that the angel is out of his depth. Cas slowly starts to gain confidence, kissing him a bit harder. Dean opens his mouth and nips at the angel’s bottom lip, sucking on it lightly. Cas sucks in a breath, clumsily trying to copy him.

Dean lets him experiment on him, thumb smoothing over his hip gently. The fact that he can do this now, have Cas pressed up against him, lips against his, is something that’s still surreal. Even after last night, even after what they talked about, he can’t believe that the angel is here, and that he wants this, what’s happening right now.

He leans back after Cas has had a decent amount of time to lick at his lips. Dean hasn’t been passive though, kissing lightly over Cas’s nose and cheeks, nosing at the skin lightly while trying to avoid Cas’s ever present stubble. Stubble burn is not something he needs.

Leaning his forehead against Cas’s, Dean smiles slightly at the angel. Cas is looking at him in wonder, and Dean can’t resist the urge to press their mouths together again.

“You sleep well?” Dean asks.

“My rest was enjoyable, with you here.”

Dean smirks. “Always happy to help.”

Cas lifts an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything.

Dean sighs. “I have to warn Rufus about the angels Cas,” Dean says, hands moving to brush against his cheeks as Dean holds onto him.

Cas frowns slightly, and Dean smooths away the lines in his face. “Will he listen?”

Dean lets out a breath. “I hope so. I’ll make him listen.”

Cas blinks slowly. “Very well. But you should pack everything you need before we leave so we can go quickly if needed.”

Dean smiles. “Deal.”

Dean reluctantly slides out bed and gets changed, while Cas just puts some of his layers back on. He quickly goes through his drawers, getting all the clothes he would need and putting them in a bag. Then he fills another with things that aren’t weapons – some food, a photo album, his phone charger. Then he gets Cas to help him carry the bags while he transports weapons and hunting equipment to the Impala. Most of the stuff that they’re going to need is in the boot already, but it doesn’t hurt to make sure.

Dean also picks out some clothes that look like Cas’s old ones, at least from a distance. A white button down short sleeved top as well as some black slacks. It would do, from a distance.

After they’ve packed the Impala to Dean’s satisfaction, Cas flies them into the office, where Ash and Garth greet them happily. Dean nods and says the appropriate words, but he can’t help but feel like there’s a barrier between them, made of his flight and absence for a month, and of his knowledge about the angels and what Cas had told him, which had turned his life over in a few paragraphs.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Dean murmurs to the angel. Cas nods, but doesn’t go to talk to anyone, merely nodding coolly at Charlie when she says good morning to him. The events of the last month must be making him cautious.

Dean knocks on Rufus’s door and pushes it open when the older man calls for him to come in.

“Dean!” Rufus says, smiling. “We’ve missed you in the time that you’ve been away.”

Dean shrugs. “Yeah, well, I’m back.” _For now, at least._

Rufus nods. “Good. You have anything to report on in the time that you’ve been away?”

“Yes,” Dean says. “A lot.”

Dean explains about what Cas and Gabriel told him, twisting the story so that it sounds like Cas told him everything. If Cas doesn’t want word of Gabriel getting out, then Dean wouldn’t blow the archangels cover. He leaves out the part about the fact that he’s the ‘Righteous Soul.’ As he approaches the end of the story, Rufus starts shaking his head.

“The angels have never been anything but welcoming and helpful Dean. Sure, they ain’t the most tact sometimes, but they’re angels, not humans. They’re a different species.”

Dean shakes his head. “You’re not listening to me. They’re using us. They wanted to find something, hidden here on earth, and they were using humans to do it. They were posing as FBI to other units, and persuading them to search for what they wanted. They’ve been doing it for as long as they’ve been here. Cas told me this, all of it. It’s true Rufus. We’ve worked together for long enough that you know I wouldn’t bullshit about this. Please believe me,” he begs, seeing the commanding officer wavering.

“I’ll have to look into it, and ask the angels about it,” Rufus says.

“No! If you tell them that Cas told me what I’ve told you, they’ll be after him.” _More than they already are._

Rufus purses his mouth. “That’s how we do things Dean. If you don’t like it…”

Dean huffs, throwing his head back. He didn’t know why he thought that Rufus would believe him. He’s always was been one of the most trusting of the angels, one of the ones to want to believe in a higher power looking out for them.

“Fine,” he says, very clearly, making sure that he won’t be misunderstood. “I’m leaving. I quit.”

He’s in the office long enough to see Rufus’s shocked face, but that isn’t his problem anymore.

Dean walks out of Rufus’ office, casting his gaze around for Cas. The angel would fly them back to his place, and they’d leave. They couldn’t wait any longer for any angels to find them.

“Charlie?” Dean asks the red haired female who is sitting at her desk. “Did you see where Cas went?”

Charlie looks up from her work. “Uh, yeah. Zachariah appeared and talked to him, I couldn’t hear what he said, and then Cas left with him.”

And Dean feels fear, real fear, like he had not in quite a while.

Charlie must have seen it on his face, because she stands up. “Dean? What’s wrong?”

Dean is already walking towards the door, knowing what would happen but having to try anyway. Sure enough, when he tries to open the door, it doesn’t move an inch, locked beyond the normal precautions.

Taking his gun out, he shoots the lock, and that gets everyone’s attention really fast.

“Dean? What on earth are you doing?” Garth asks. Dean ignores him, unsheathing the sword Cas had given him and thrusts it at the door. It glances off, but makes the door shimmer for a second.

Taking no heed of the growing chaos behind him, Dean shoves the blade through the lock and that finally gets a response. The door catches on fire, but the angelic protection is gone, so he kicks it open and sprints down the hallway, past Krissy and into the other office on this level.

“Did anyone see a bald dude and a dark haired man in suits go past here?” He shouts into the quiet office. A few people look shocked and several are staring at the flaming door, but two point him towards the elevator.

Knowing that Zachariah couldn’t resist the walk of shame out of the doors of the building, Dean throws himself down the stairs, not caring if he breaks something, just knowing that he has to get the lobby before the angels leave.

He passes a few people going up or down, but he doesn’t let that stop him, and thirteen floors never felt so far.

Flinging open the doors to the ground level, he’s just in time to see a nameless angel reaching to open the doors for two more angels, Cas and Zachariah, Cas’s head lowered and Zachariah nearly strutting. It sends a thrill of fury through him. He only just worked things out with Cas. Zachariah isn’t going to take him away just after that. Not now, and if Dean has anything to say about it, not ever.

Dean doesn’t think he’s ever run thirty metres faster in his life. He slams the door closed, and takes the second that the angels are standing there stunned to stab the one opening the door through the throat with the silver blade he still has in his hand. The angel looks down in disbelief as white light starts shining out of the wound, and Dean shields his eyes at the inevitable explosion.

This seems to bring the other two angels to life, and they simultaneously draw their blades and leap at him.

Now they might be angels, but Dean is desperate, more desperate than he thinks he’s ever been in his entire life. Cas has been teaching him how to use the blade, all the tricks that would help because he’s human, and Dean uses them all, whirling and swirling and ducking under their swords, trying to land a fatal hit of his own. One of them lands a glancing hit on his mouth, splitting his lip, and a sword goes across his upper arm. It doesn’t affect him like an angel though – it just feels like a normal blade, and he knows how to deal with that. So he just keeps on swinging.

He slices across the arm of one angel, and as he takes a moment to step back and look shocked, Dean slices through the other angel’s throat. She gives out a shudder and falls on her back, and Dean has to cover his eyes to avoid the white flash of light that comes as she dies.

The other angel is already coming at him, and Dean barely has time to dodge and duck, put on the defensive. Seeing an opportunity, he throws the sword, hoping, praying that finds its mark. It does, and the angel has a moment to look down at his chest in amazement before he falls and white light flashes through the lobby for the third time in as many minutes.

Pulling the blade out of his chest with a slick crunching sound, Dean advances on Zachariah and Cas, seeing for the first time the dainty silver cuffs around his angel’s wrists. Dean can just make out the engraving on them, and is sure it’s Enochian, probably some sort of binding spell.

Cas is pleading with his eyes to run, but Dean isn’t leaving until Zachariah has fled or is dead.

Flipping the blade in his hand so he can use it, Dean licks his lips, the silence around them registering for the first time.

Flicking his eyes around, they land on Lara, who is staring at him with a pale face. There are more people who are either staring at him or the burnt out shapes of wings on the ground surrounding him in almost a perfect triangle, easily proclaiming who had killed them, if the bloody blade in his hand didn’t do it for you.

“Do you want to be next?” Dean asks, and he almost doesn’t recognise his voice, low and dark and deep, angry and threatening. It’s a part of himself he usually tries to fight down, to hide, something he usually refuses to acknowledge. He’s using it now to try and save his angel from whatever horrible fate Zachariah had planned for him. That’s not happening, not while he’s alive.

Zachariah looks surprised, and as Dean takes a step towards him, he disappears, but without Cas.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Dean breaks the chain between the cuffs. He slides the blade under each one and, careful not to hurt Cas, cuts them off.

Cas throws them away, and Dean envelops him in a hug before leaning backwards and roughly kissing him, nudging his mouth open and tasting Cas, _Cas_ , who he almost lost to those fuckers, who he is never letting out of his sight again.

“Are you okay?” He murmurs, brushing his lips across Cas’ as he talks, and the angel leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut as he rests on Dean.

“I will live,” Cas says quietly. “We need to leave.”

Dean looks up to see Annie, Victor, Charlie, Rufus, Garth, Ash and Krissy looking at them. Lara has migrated to Charlie’s side, and is clutching her hand like it’s a lifeline.

“I know,” Dean whispers back. “Take us away Cas.”

The now familiar feeling of moving through space happens, and Dean gives himself to it, holding onto Cas as tightly as he can.

~*~*~*~

Now Charlie knew there weren’t many normal as such days in her life, but this had been one of them.

Had been.

She’d organised a date with Lara after they had both finished work, and was just finishing up some paper work when Dean and Castiel had appeared.

Seeing the angels appear and talk and leave had become a normal part of her life as well, even if she hadn’t seen Anna or Uriel for a while, so she had ignored it for the most part, only noticing when Zachariah and Castiel had walked out instead of disappearing.

She had wanted Dean and Castiel to finally get over whatever had been keeping them apart, but not like this.

Dean is standing in a circle of dead angels, their wings burnt black on the white floor of the ground floor of the building. If it had been any other floor, _any_ other floor, they could have covered this up, but this floor is open to the public, and there are always a few people with cameras around. Charlie can see them now, oh God, their lives were going to be overturned, the public is going to find out, and Charlie doesn’t even know why she’s surprised when Lara appears next to her and grips her hand tightly.

Dean had just finished kissing Castiel, and is now looking her dead in the eye as he speaks to Castiel. Both of them disappear just as Zachariah reappears with several other angels, angels that she doesn’t know.

Charlie can’t even begin to imagine the repercussions of this. Already some of those videos had probably been uploaded to YouTube, and Charlie can see other phones pointed at the angels who had gathered around their fallen siblings.

Lara has a death grip on her hand, and Charlie brings her in so she can hold her, not sure when she’ll get another chance.

“I’m sorry, but I think I’m going to have to skip our date tonight,” she whispers into the dark hair under her chin, as the room explodes into chaos.

“I kind of figured,” she says. The angels are arguing and they disappear and reappear frequently, probably trying to follow where Castiel and Dean went.

The public are scrambling to get away, to get closer, on their phones, clinging to other people. The agents who had been on the ground floor are trying to herd them out of the building, even as they close the windows to the outside world. Rufus is on the phone next to her, and Ash and Krissy are helping to try to herd the public outside.

“You’ve guessed a lot concerning what we do in my unit,” Charlie says, not really concerned about anything other than clearing things up with Lara before whatever happens next makes her think badly of Charlie, because Charlie can’t lose her, she just can’t. “Can you guess now?”

Lara raises her head and look up at her. “SPN… Supernatural.” She breathes, eyes wide as she looks up at Charlie, who nods slowly. “No. No, I refuse. You can’t… You can’t have… You can’t _know_ something like that… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have believed me?” Charlie asks softly. “Besides. I don’t ask what you do, you don’t ask what I do. Top secret, yeah?”

Lara is looking at her with eyes that are too big and too disbelieving. Charlie starts to panic. “I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t because you wouldn’t believe me and even if you believed me I wanted to protect you so you would never have to know or worry or fear for yourself like that, and I wanted to tell you because then you would know everything, but maybe you would leave…” Charlie trails off, looking into Lara’s eyes.

Lara shakes her head, looking away. “I need to… I need to think about this.”

Walking off, she casts several looks back at Charlie before disappearing. Charlie covers her face with her hands for a second before slipping back into business mode. She has a mess to clean up, and she needs to clean it up now.

~*~*~*~

Dean finds himself landing inside the Impala, Cas sitting in the front seat next to him. He quickly gets out his phone, and sends a text to Sam before turning the phone off.

**< <im ok**

Cas is gazing at him, and Dean flashes a smile his way before turning the key in the engine.

“They’ll probably be closing the city roads, so we have to get out of here fast,” Dean tells the angel. Cas nods, and they quickly move through the city, dodging traffic and police who don’t know that there’s a problem yet.

Dean flicks the indicator on to turn off onto the main highway leading north. He doesn’t know where they’re going exactly, just knows that they have to get away.

He drives until the sun has set, and thanks his luck that he had withdrawn money from his account this morning. Seeing a motel, he drives in and books a room for two and pays with cash. They’re in the outskirts of Colorado Springs – Dean had always found it easier to hide in a big city.

Cas helps bring his bags in, and Dean systematically starts to cut up all of his credit cards, business and personal. Cas observes him silently as Dean cuts up as many ties to the last ten years of his life as he can. He keeps his driver’s licence and badge for emergencies, but other than that, everything goes, including all of his phones. He lifts his shirt up, but the cut that’s there isn’t serious, and he just doses it with some anti-bacterial stuff and leaves it.

When he’s done, he dumps the small fragments in the bin that sitting in the room and turns to Cas, who’s on the bed. The angel lets his wrists taken up and inspected by Dean.

“Why didn’t he take you with him?” Dean asks, brushing his fingers over the slight imprints that the cuffs had left.

“The binding spell prevented me from being affected by any Grace, including the Grace of other angels. He could not take me with him unless be unbound me.”

Dean lets out a breath, bringing Cas’s wrist up and kissing the marks lightly. “I was worried, for a moment,” he admits. “Worried he was going to take you away, somewhere that I wouldn’t be able to follow.”

Cas’s eyes go flinty. “And you think I wasn’t afraid when you took on those angels?”

Dean smiles at him. “I was trained by the best,” he says, and Cas purses his mouth.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he warns.

“Cas, I wouldn’t have tried to go in if I didn’t think I had a fair chance of winning. I wanted you free, not captured and having to deal with the fact that I was dead.”

“They would have been reluctant to kill you,” Cas says. “They know you are the possessor of the Righteous Soul. Being dead would not help their cause.”

Dean shrugs. “I wasn’t really thinking about that. I was thinking about everything you had taught me, and trying to get out of there alive. But let me tell you,” Dean cracks a smile, “That threatening to kill Zachariah is coming in second for best moment of the week.”

“What’s the first?” Cas shyly asks him.

Dean feels a corner of his mouth crook up. “Being able to do this,” he comments, pressing their lips together. Cas lets out a content little sound.

Dean asks the question that’s been burning under his tongue for a while now.

“Why did you leave?”

Cas blinks. “What?”

“After I kissed you. Why did you leave? I mean,” Dean continues, waving his hand in the air between them. “You obviously reciprocate. What happened?”

Cas turns his head away slightly. “My Grace is not used to being in such situations, Dean. It demanded that I leave. I panicked. I did not understand… this. Balthazar helped me think through some things and make some decisions. I simply needed some space to think things through before I returned to you.”

Dean runs a hand up his arm and to the back of Cas’s neck, prompting the angel to turn his head back towards Dean. “I am sorry,” Cas says. “I did not mean to cause you hurt.”

Dean takes a breath in. “It’s fine Cas. It just kinda felt different, though. To me. It looked like you ran because you didn’t want it.”

Cas flinches. “Yes. I did not think of that.”

“That’s all I can ask, then,” Dean murmurs. “That you think about it next time.”

Cas nods stiffly. “I promise I will.”

Dean feels the corner of his mouth twitch up. “Good.”

“So what’s next?” Dean questions, after they’ve been staring at each other for a while.

“Next?” Cas inquires.

“Well, we’re on the run. You, from crazy angels, me from the FBI, who are probably having a full blown panic attack right now. Let me assure you, they are not happy with me. I saw all those cameras. That’s not something that’s going to be easy to erase off the internet.” Dean bites his lip. He hasn’t had the guts to turn on the news yet. “I don’t know how they’re going to cover this up Cas.” He sighs lightly, and Cas presses up against him. “So we’re running, but what are we trying to accomplish?”

Cas runs a hand through his hair. “The angels are also looking for you now Dean,” he tells him slowly. “They need you. Hell knows who you are, and they need you to complete the spell as well. So…” Cas trails off, and his hand moves up to cover Dean’s heart. Cas looks at him with wide eyes, but that doesn’t distract Dean from having his breath pushed out of him as his ribs burst into pain for a few seconds. Abruptly, it’s over, and Dean stares at Cas, panting lightly.

“What the hell was that?” He exclaims, looking down at Cas’s hand.

“I carved some Enochian into your ribs. No angel or demon can find you now.”

Dean gapes at his chest for a few moments before looking up to Cas again. “You _what_?” He rubs his head and swallows. “Not even you?”

Cas shakes his head. “There could be no gap in the carving, or it would be useless.”

Dean just kind of stares at Cas for a few more seconds before shrugging. It’ll be useful. “You could have warned me first,” he grumbles.

Cas looks like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Oh. I shall, next time I’m inscribing something into you.”

Dean doesn’t know how he’s meant to respond to that, so he just kind of look at Cas for a while. “Okay, so what now? We’ve got the angelic protection down, we just need a plan.” Dean looks sideways at Cas. “Unless your plan was just running.”

Cas looks at the ground sheepishly, and Dean gasps. “It was! Cas that isn’t a good plan.”

Cas looks back up at him. “Well what else can we do?”

Dean rubs the back of his neck, suddenly a lot more aware of the space between them than before. “Well, tell me about that map that Alastair had.” The demons name tastes like ash in his mouth, and he tries not to shudder.

“It was a locating spell. Do you have a map?”

Dean rummages around in his things to find a map. It’s a world one, and Cas nods approvingly at it, making a pencil appear out of nowhere and making small marks on the map in various locations around the world. For some, he puts crosses, and for some he puts stars, the type you draw without lifting the pencil from the page.

“The stars are where an agent of Heaven has completed a location spell. The crosses are for Hell.”

Dean looks over the map while Cas starts to draw small arrows pointing in different directions from the stars and two of the crosses. “We know this direction because an angel had managed to sneak in and observe the ceremony,” Cas tells him. “And we were both there for the one in Ohio. It was the most recent.”

“So how does this work?”

“Each time the spell is performed, it gives you a direction. A very vague direction, but you get the general idea. We think the sword fell in the United States of America because of our readings, and form where Alastair performed his ritual, we think that they know as well.”

“So it’s definitely in the US?” Dean questions, looking at the map.

Cas points to the mark he made at the north border of Mexico. “We know that it’s north from this point.” He points to the mark in Ohio where Alastair had held Cas and himself captive. “And south west from this point.” There’s a mark in China, and Cas moves his finger to brush over it next. “The direction was east from here. It’s the turn of Heaven to make a move and complete the next spell, after what Alastair did in Ohio.”

“Do you know what you need for it?” Dean asks him, looking at the map.

Cas nods. “Yes. It is a fairly simple spell compared to some of the others. We have all the ingredients we need, but we are lacking one.” Cas frowns lightly. “We needed some blood from a pure souled child. It needed to be fresh, so we had to take it just before we completed the ritual. I had two guards on two different children, but both Sariel and Vaveal were killed, and the children stolen by minions of Hell. We would need to find another child for the spell to work.”

“How much blood?” Dean asks, slightly sick.

“Not a large amount. Only enough to wet the end of a stick, the one used to draw the circle.”

Dean nods. “Okay then. How would we go about finding one of these kids?”

Cas looks up at him, their eyes locking. “What are you suggesting?” The angel asks slowly.

Dean bites his lip. “Well, Heaven hasn’t completed the spell yet, have they?”

Cas shakes his head. “No. Every angel and demon in existence would have felt it happen.”

Dean raises his eyebrows at that. “Well, what if we did it?”

Cas looks confused. “Do what?”

Dean takes a deep breath in. “What if we completed the spell, and narrowed down where it would be even further?”

Cas tilts his head to the side. “That would limit what my siblings know,” he says.

“Yes, but it would stave off them finding it, at least for a while, right?”

Cas nods. “Yes, it would slow them down. But Dean,” he says, voice dropping in volume. “They are going to find the sword eventually. And then they will want you.”

Dean runs a hand over his face. “I know. That’s why I’m saying, we should beat them to the punch. Find where the sword is first, before them. After someone’s found it, can these locating spells be used anymore?” He gestures to the map on the table in front of them.

Cas shakes his head. “No. They cannot. That is why both sides are racing to find it first.”

“So we find it,” Dean appeals, “Before anyone else does.”

Cas stares at the map silently while Dean waits for his decision. “Someone’s going to find it Cas,” Dean murmurs. “Why can’t it be us?”

Cas looks like he’s warring with himself internally, hands bunched by his sides. He turns to Dean, and the hunter wants to erase the worried look in his eyes. Cas leans over and kisses him, and Dean rests his hands on his shoulders as Cas grips the front of his shirt.

“Hey,” Dean says softly. “I told you. Everything’s going to turn out okay.”

Cas’s eyes slide shut slowly, and Dean pulls the angel against him firmly, trying to erase the space that kept them apart.

“Are you sure about this Dean?” Cas asks softly, after some time has passed.

“What, about finding the sword? Someone’s going to find it Cas. And then they’re going to be looking for me, not it anymore. But if we stop them from finding it, then they won’t have as much time to look for me.”

Cas nods slowly, his nose pushing into Dean’s neck. “Very well. Then we should find a child with a pure soul, and we should take the thimble of blood that we need from them.”

“And we need to do it before Heaven can get their hands on a kid. No sweat.”

“If we want to achieve the spell before my siblings, then we need to move quickly,” Cas advises. “We should start tomorrow.”

“Okay. Find the kid, complete the spell, find the sword. No problems, right?”

Cas leans back so he can look at Dean. “It is extremely unlikely that we will not have any problems. Or that the spell will narrow down the location enough to find the Sword.”

“Ah, yes, but,” Dean whispers. “It keeps our spirits up when we’re freaking out. It helps calm us down and keep us centred. A little reassurance can go a long way Cas.”

Cas tilts his head slightly. “What types of reassurance are there?” He questions.

Dean lets out a soft laugh. “This is one of them, if you were wondering.” He slides his hand under Cas’s chin and angles it so that he can kiss him. Cas presses into it, lips searching softly against Dean’s. Dean sighs softly, the air moving against Cas gently. The angel’s hands are happily holding Dean against him, as if he were trying to keep the hunter from the forces of Heaven and Hell. No that it would do much good, but Dean is willing to let him do it. Cas needs the reassurance as well as he does.

He doesn’t want to think about what Cas had told him the previous day. He doesn’t want to think about that fact that Alastair was most likely going to be searching for him again, and that the demon knows where Sam is. He doesn’t want to think about a war that’s gone on since before time was something that needed to be measured.

All he wants to think about is how satisfying it is to have Cas here, their lips pressed together, both trying to escape the inevitable, but ultimately just making the time that they have count before the clock ticks down to zero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is the end of Part 2. It's a three part act, but I'm thinking that Part 3 is going to be the longest one... 
> 
> Anyway, hoped you enjoyed!


	13. Different Types of Spells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to tiger-darling on tumblr for betaing this chapter!

Castiel watches Dean sleep, the familiar act calming him. After the day that they had had, he thinks that some peace is nice, and very welcome.

His eyelids are heavy, and he fights the unfamiliar sensation. Dean is silhouetted by the single strand of light coming in through the tiny space the curtains did not cover. The streetlight from outside is casting a pale blue light on the hunter, and Castiel is taking his time to study Dean’s face, as if he did not already have it committed to his memory. The rise and fall of Dean’s chest is hypnotic, and the steady beat of his heart soothes Castiel immensely.

Dean and he had kissed for a time that seemed to both last forever and yet be too short. Castiel had sensed the human’s fatigue, and he had quietly bid him sleep. Dean had nodded, and had curled them up together, chest to chest, so that Castiel could watch as he fell asleep.

Could watch him still, hours later.

Even though he had spilled out nearly everything that he had been keeping from the hunter, some things remained his only, to keep hidden in his wings. They had not discussed Anna or Balthazar, and Castiel had most certainly not mentioned his Grace. Dean did not need to know of the slow poison making its way through his veins, making each beat of his heart more necessary than the last. Making him more like the man in front of him, face smooth and free of the lines that it bore too often while Dean was awake. Dean looks peaceful like this, and Castiel tries to take some of that peace for himself, pressing their bodies together before reaching for Dean’s soul. It’s quiet and pliable, and Castiel contentedly settles himself down next to it, Grace pressed alongside it.

The arm that Dean has around him squeezes him gently.

Castiel sighs quietly. Grace is what makes him an angel – without it, he does not know what he will be. The sword of Grace is a double edged blade, as likely to bite Castiel as his enemies if he does not obey the orders and rules that it lays down. More likely, even.

He has broken too many of them already.

Dean lets out a small murmur and shuffles closer to Castiel slightly. Castiel lets a small smile grace his mouth as Dean’s hands tighten where they grip him lightly. Castiel does not dare to try and dream walk with the human – he fears that he has lost that ability already. It is the same reason why he has been conserving Grace for the last few months. His ties to the source of his power have frayed and snapped, and he must fend for himself from now on. His wings shiver in dread at the thought, and Castiel hushes them. There is a chance that his siblings could be looking for movement on the celestial plane, and that is where his wings exist. He does not want to give away their position. But that doesn’t stop him from cautiously bringing one up and curling it around Dean. The hunter shifts slightly, most likely sensing that something is there, even in his sleep. A normal human could not have felt it, but there is a piece of Castiel buried in his soul, and Dean had been more aware of Castiel after the angel had joined them together, come what may.

He blinks, and it suddenly becomes hard to open his eyes. He had been trying to avoid thinking about his sudden need to rest. He is not complaining about curling up with Dean, but angels do not need to sleep. He had mediated, that time after he had answered Dean’s subconscious prayer and the fear that Castiel had felt snaking through their bond, souring it when he brushed against it. But he had not intended to fall asleep last night. He had been tired after fighting his way out through the traitorous angels, but his anger and grief at Balthazar’s death had allowed him to escape with no extra injuries, and two death blows, one which had been against Poliel. Balthazar would have rolled his eyes at him. But it had not been mediating or even meaning to rest last night – he had simply blinked, and opened his eyes to find that hours had passed. It had been disconcerting.

Castiel shakes his head slightly and sighs. He had separated himself from Heaven to flee his siblings. He is paying for it now, with his Grace bleeding out sluggishly, even as he tries to clutch it with fingers that it are incapable of holding it. He does not, however, think it is true sleep. He is not human – _not yet,_ a part of him whispers – and while it may seem like sleep to him, to someone who had not experienced it before, to a human it may be something very different from what they think of as sleep.

He swallows and nestles into the warmth that Dean is letting out, evening out his breath and clearing his mind, as if he was about to contact his Father. Instead of doing that however, he thinks about the strength of Dean as he breathes calmly next to him, and the hunter’s resolve that everything would be – in his own words – _okay_.

Castiel could believe that. He could believe _Dean_.

~*~*~*~

The other pack is close.

Madison narrows her eyes and draws in another breath. Thomas, her second in command, is close behind her.

“I think we’re close.” He murmurs. Madison’s ears pick it up easily, her senses more keen than any human’s.

She nods. “Yeah. But there’s something else…” She trails off. There are human scents here as well. She doesn’t know why that’s important. It’s a popular park for humans in the day time. Human scents are everywhere. But these are different.

Thomas doesn’t think so. “Maddie, it’s just some humans, probably jogging or something. We have to chase the other pack. They’re heading towards the Alpha’s pack.”

“There’s something about them,” she says, frustrated. The moon is hanging above them, a sickle in the sky. “I don’t like it.”

Thomas shifts uncomfortably. There’s a reason that she’s the alpha, and not him. She can pick up things that he can’t. This might be one of these things.

“What is it?”

Madison shrugs. “You go and keep everyone together. I’m going to go and take a look.”

Thomas hesitates, but goes when she growls at him. She purses her mouth and sets through the forest, hardly making any noise. She’s bathed in scents of this forest, so it should be harder to smell her, should be harder for the other pack to realise that there’s a wolf not of their own in the vicinity.

She finds the humans first. As soon as she sees them, she realises why she thought they were different. It’s because she knows them.

Well, only some of them. And she had only known them for five hours. And it had been nearly a year ago.

She can’t remember all of their names, but she remembers their scents. The red haired hunter that had been with Dean is behind a dark skinned man. Anne – or was it Annie? – is behind her. There is a man with long hair and one who is gangly and thin ten metres to the left. Behind them is a young woman with blonde hair.

She doesn’t worry about them spotting her. Each one of them is making more than double the noise that she is, and there are more of them than her. They don’t know how to use their noses, so she doesn’t have to worry about them smelling her. If she’s lucky, she won’t have to risk her pack to take out the other werewolves. These hunters will do it for her. She’s seen them in action, and it isn’t something that she wants to see around her own pack – but a rivals? She feels the beginning of a grin stretch her face.

The hunters are moving in the right direction, so she simply trails them as they walk. When they start getting off track, she swiftly moves ahead of them and makes some noise, far enough away that they wouldn’t shoot, but close enough so that they would change their course.

Madison waits until they’ve gotten close enough that she knows that they’re going to run into the other pack before she starts running back to her family. Thomas is keeping everyone together and calm when she gets there.

“There are some hunters,” Madison tells him. Thomas tenses.

“Shit,” he hisses. “We have to get out of here.”

“I know them,” Madison tells him. “And the other pack still needs to be killed.”

“We can get them later,” Thomas says. Half the pack is looking at them, worried. It isn’t often that they argue in front of everyone.

“No. You take the pack back to the safe house. I need to make sure that they’re gone before I come back.”

Thomas bites his lip. She narrows her eyes at him.

“Ryan isn’t going to be happy,” Thomas mutters. Madison rolls her eyes.

“I can take care of him.” Her mate is just going to have to accept that she is in charge, not him. Which isn’t something that he accepts happily, but she could beat him in a fight, and he knows it.

“Fine,” Thomas says. Everyone is up on their feet, and he lets out a rough bark, beckoning them to follow him. Madison watches as her family disappears towards safety, and then turns back to where she can hear gunshots.

By the time she gets there, nearly all of the other pack is dead. She stays in the trees, not wanting to get shot. Without their fur, the werewolves are near defenceless against the hunters. Madison looks up at the moon. It’s at its quarter mark, so if they have any of the blood, then the hunters could have problems.

As if her thoughts summoned them, three werewolves burst out of the forest, heading straight towards the hunters. Annie and the other red haired lady don’t see them, but the man with the long hair and his partner do. The lanky one shouts a warning and jumps in front of not-Annie, getting bowled onto his back by one wolf. The shots became frantic, the blonde woman doing most of the shooting, and within the minute, all the wolves and the rest of their pack are dead. Madison quickly circles the clearing, making sure that all of the pack is dead before observing the hunters in the middle of the clearing.

They’re panicking. Madison takes a deep breath in. The smell of a Change is in the air, and she lifts her head. She could use another pack member.

“You can’t do anything for him,” she calls out.

They all look up. Annie bares her teeth, trying to stem the bleeding from the bite wound on the man’s shoulder.

“Dean and I have worked together before, a few times. Where is he?”

They all tense. “Who are you?” Calls out the red haired woman.

“Madison,” Madison replies. “Look, I know how to deal with bite wounds. Let me help him.”

She still hasn’t come out of the trees. They all start whispering harshly to each other. Madison lets them, looking around for the member of their merry group that she knows the most.

“Is he still with Gabriel?” She calls out. “I swear to god, I don’t know what that thing was, but if I ever meet it again, I’m going to chew it’s head off. It’s that annoying. I would have thought that Dean chose his companions a bit better than that.”

She can’t smell him anywhere, so she’s going to assume that he’s not on this trip. The man on the ground is still bleeding out. The blonde woman is pressing a bandage over the wound.

“He’s going to die,” she says.

“Fine,” the dark skinned man says. “Come and help.”

Madison waits for another moment. “Please,” Annie calls out.

At that, she cautiously stalks out of the trees, watching them carefully to make sure that no one pulls a gun. They grudgingly give her room to kneel by the man’s side.

“Hey,” she says quietly, for him alone. “I’m Madison. What’s your name?”

“Garth,” the man says, obviously in pain. Madison nods.

“Okay Garth. I’m going to help you through this, okay? Don’t worry about anything. You just relax.”

She takes off the bandage they had tried to cover the wound with and inspects the bite. “He didn’t get enough saliva on it,” she tells the hunters, and works up a glob of spit to put on the wound. They all flinch when she spits it out, but the bleeding slows almost immediately. “Werewolf saliva stops wounds from bleeding,” she says casually. “But it has this pesky side effect of turning you into a werewolf if it gets into your bloodstream. I’ll take him into my pack. Don’t worry, he’ll be safe. I don’t anything crazy in it.”

“Whoa, wait up there. Garth is coming with us.”

Madison frowns at the long haired man. “And live separate from others like him? From others who know how to control themselves and live without excessive killing? He’ll go rabid within a few months. I’ve seen it before, and I’m sure that I’ll see it again.”

She continues treating the bite while the silence around her festers. A howl in the distance makes her bare her teeth.

“Stupid Ryan,” she mutters. “Why I even keep him around, I have no idea.” She shakes her head and throws her head back, calling to her mate. The hunters shift uneasily.

It isn’t long before Ryan comes through the forest and steps out into the clearing. He’s one of the blood, not one of the bitten, so he’s in wolf form. His dark grey fur ripples and Madison has to stop herself from staring appreciatively.

“I’ve got a bitten. We’ll take him back with us. He used to be a hunter, so he should be easy to train.”

Ryan regards her silently, before looking down at Garth. He huffs to her, and she huffs back, telling him to scout for any of the other pack that she missed. He immediately starts loping away through the forest.

“I have to thank you,” she says to the hunters. “My pack was going to take out this pack, but then you came along, and I didn’t have to risk anyone to kill them all, and I got a new pack member. This night is looking up.”

The hunters are staring at Garth. “We’re not leaving him,” not-Annie says. “After Dean, we can’t leave him as well…”

Madison looks up. “What happened to Dean?”

No one answers her, and she bares her teeth. “Fine. Be that way.”

The blonde woman shakes her head and looks away. Madison nods over the wound.

“Take him to a hospital and get him stitched up. Then send him to this address.” She gets a piece of scrap paper out of her pocket and scribbles down an address. “Someone will meet him and take him to where we are. We’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”

They all exchange worried glances, but that’s not Madison’s problem. Ryan is sitting a few trees back from the clearing, tail wagging. Everything is fine, and she needs to go. Her pack needs their leader.

“I’ll see you around,” she murmurs, giving Garth one more look before bounding off into the trees, following her mate back to their family.

~*~*~*~

Castiel wakes when Dean shifts against him and lets out a low grumble. Castiel touches their bond, but the hunter isn’t dreaming of anything out of the ordinary, and Castiel hopes that he took his words to heart. Castiel had meant every word that he had said, and he needs Dean to heal from it, for both their sakes.

Dean has his nose buried in Castiel’s hair, and his arm is slung over his stomach. Castiel cautiously takes Dean’s hand and twines their fingers around each other. It makes him feel better. Dean’s soul and Castiel are still wound around each other, and Castiel does not take the time to separate them. Having Dean against him is intoxicating.

There is only the first hint of sunrise in the air, so Castiel waits patiently for Dean to wake, wanting the hunter to get all the sleep that he can. Castiel is content to simply lie next to him, certain in the knowledge that both of them are safe.

A few minutes after the clock next to the bed clicks over to seven o’clock, Dean takes a deeper breath and sighs. The air goes over the nape of Castiel’s neck, and he feels a rush of goose bumps go over his skin. Castiel stops himself from shivering, feeling his stomach turn over from both Dean being near and from his Grace bubbling unhappily inside him.

Dean’s hand tightens in his as the hunter gradually becomes aware of his surroundings. “Cas?” He asks groggily.

“Dean,” Castiel replies quietly. Dean yawns and groans, flexing his fingers where they’re holding hands and pauses. He lifts his hand to look at their hands and Castiel can feel himself blush slightly.

“Sorry,” he says, moving to untangle their fingers. Dean tightens his grip and Castiel stops.

“It’s fine,” Dean says, quirking his lips out in a smile. He leans down and kisses Castiel gently for a second, before letting him go and stretching, pushing his hands up and popping his spine. Castiel reluctantly lets go of Dean’s soul as the hunter moves away.

Dean pushes the covers back and wanders over to the bathroom, and Castiel hears the shower start running, the water splashing as Dean moves around. Castiel slides out of the bed himself, and tucks the sheets back up, so there is no evidence of them remaining. Then he gathers all of Dean’s clothing and puts it back in his bag, before cleaning up the rest of the room so they would be ready to go. By the time the shower turns off, Castiel has finished getting everything together, and is just waiting for Dean.

The other man comes out of the bathroom wearing a new pair of boxers and the shirt he had been wearing in bed. Castiel watches as he looks around the room, searching for his bag. He flashes a smile at Castiel and spots his bag where Castiel had left it, on the small table in the room. He wonders over there, yawning, and unzips the bag.

Dean stretches, and Castiel tries not to stare at the sliver of skin that’s revealed when his shirt rides up slightly.

“You want to go grab some food?” Dean asks, scratching the back of his neck while he rummages around in his bag.

Castiel nods. “Yes. Although I will not need anything.”

Dean turns, frowning slightly. “It’ll look weird if I sit there and you’re not eating.”

“I am simply concerned about how you are going to afford it. You no longer have your business contacts, or credit cards.” Castiel furrows his brow slightly, looking at Dean with concern.

Dean sighs. “Yeah, well I’ve been trying not to think about it. I have my personal account, but I bet the FBI’s tracking that. I might have Sam draw some cash for me and wire it to me. I’ve got a decent amount stashed. Don’t sweat it.”

Castiel pauses before he continues. “Very well. Where are we going?”

Dean shrugs. “Wherever we want. What do you feel like?”

Castiel tilts his head slightly as Dean pulls off his old shirt. He throws it aside and digs around in his bag, his soul letting off small sparks of annoyance, presumably because he can’t find what he’s looking for. Castiel watches the muscles in his back roll and shift, and can’t think of any food he had experienced before.

“Cas?” Dean asks, turning around to look at him questionably, an eyebrow raised.

“Coffee,” Castiel blurts.

Dean nods, pulling a shirt over his head. “Yeah, I could go for some coffee. I saw a diner down the road, and they’re probably open at this time of day. What do you think?”

Castiel shakes his head, trying to clear his clinging thoughts. “Yes, I think that is agreeable.”

“Awesome. Put on some clothes, and we’ll leave. I only booked the room for one day, so after that I think we should hit the road again. You got any ideas on how to find this kid?”

“Several,” Castiel says quietly. He had forgotten that he would have to change as well. He feels a touch of annoyance towards himself, and it startles him for a few seconds before he brushes it away.

“Good, tell me over breakfast. I’m hungry.”

Castiel nods and go over to where his clothes are. But before he can put his shirt back on, Dean’s hands are skimming over his waist, sliding down and settling with his thumbs inside his boxers. Castiel stiffens slightly as Dean steps up and presses against him lightly.

“You should wear some of my clothes. You’ll stand out less, and if anyone’s looking for you, they’ll be expecting the suit look.” Dean’s hands slowly slide up, taking the singlet that Castiel had been wearing with them. Castiel lets Dean strip him, moving his arms so that Dean can slide the undershirt over his head. “We’ll get some clothes for you later.”

Dean lets the shirt fall to the ground, nosing at Castiel’s neck and biting it lightly. Castiel turns in his arms, ignoring the heat that was left wherever Dean’s hands trailed.

Dean smiles and leans down, brushing their lips together. Castiel takes the invitation and moves his hand up over Dean’s left shoulder, brushing over the handprint there, the physical mark of their joining calming him somewhat.

“Come on,” Dean murmurs, but belies that statement by tilting his head and kissing him again, deepening it. “Let’s go.”

“We… Can’t if… You keep… Kissing me,” Castiel manages to say, in the short periods of time when Dean is not pressing their mouths together, tongue gently trying to press his mouth open. With a shudder he lets Dean in. The hunter’s hands tighten where they’re resting on Castiel’s hips, and the angel can tell that he is restraining himself.

“True,” Dean says, and Castiel takes a steadying breath when Dean’s hands leave him. Dean goes over to his bag and pulls out a pair of jeans and a light gold and white plaid shirt. “Here,” the hunter says, throwing the angel the items. “Put those on.” Dean bundles up his other clothes, but Castiel grabs his coat before he can touch that.

“I’m keeping this,” he says.

Dean lowers his eyebrows. “Cas, it’s the middle of summer. No one is wearing a jacket. It’ll look weird.”

“Still. I’m wearing it,” Castiel continues stubbornly.

Dean sighs but does not argue any further. “Fine.”

Castiel pulls on the shirt and does up the buttons, unlike Dean. The jeans are too big for him, so Dean hands him a belt to keep them up. Presentable to the world outside, they give the key back to the clerk at the front desk.

The diner only has a few people in it. A television is playing in a corner, and a waitress is moving around, serving food to the three people who are there.

Castiel would have ignored the television, if Dean had not immediately concentrated on it. He turns to the screen, wondering what had his hunter’s interest.

“…Videos show an indistinct man murdering three people. But that’s not what some have focused on, is it Merida?”

The screen switches to a young woman with dark skin standing outside the FBI building in Phoenix.

“No Frank, it isn’t. While the government, police and FBI are all trying to settle this incident by claiming that it’s false, overnight a horde of people who are claiming otherwise have popped up. There are claims saying that the three people who were murdered were angels, to people saying that creatures like vampires and werewolves are real. While some of these can be discounted,” the news presenter smirks for a second. “There are others that cannot be ignored. Clearly, _something_ is happening in this video that has gone viral all around the world. Here’s part of it now. Viewers, be warned that the following content contains graphic violence.”

The woman disappears, and a grainy shot appears. It’s the main floor of the FBI’s building, with everyone milling peacefully. Castiel sees himself being taken by Zachariah, Ariel, Keeliah and Yvviel. Dean appears, his face blurred, and Castiel watches as Dean kills his siblings. The camera is too far away to pick up any dialogue, but it picks up when Zachariah disappears, and then Castiel and Dean vanish after him after kissing. More angels appear, and the video stops when the growing chaos knocks the cameraman to the ground, and the footage turns sideways. The image turns back to the news presenter.

“There you have it. What the government is saying is a hoax, while others are calling it a government cover up. Frank, we’ll have more for you as this situation develops…”

Dean has a pinched look to his face, and Castiel decides that he does not like it. “Dean?” He asks quietly. The hunter’s eyes are still fixed to the small screen, even though the news has moved on to a tornado gathering off the coast of Florida.

Eventually, Dean shakes his head. “I was expecting something like this, but still. Charlie and Ash and whoever else they rope in to deal with this have their work cut out for them.”

“Bit crazy, isn’t it?” A waitress drawls as she walks by. “It’s all that they’ve been showing this morning.”

Dean shakes his head, and Castiel follows him to an unoccupied table.

“At least they won’t be able to publically search for me,” Dean sighs. “It would be like admitting the video was true, and that they are trying to cover it up. So no man hunts, which is good.”

The waitress comes over, smiling at them. “Can I get you anything this morning?”

“Two coffees please. One black, one white.” She nods, scribbling something down on her notepad. “And one of your big breakfasts.” Dean smiles at him as she moves on to the next table. “You can try whatever you want, and I can eat the rest.”

Castiel smiles for a second, and does not resist the urge to touch his Grace to Dean’s soul. Dean’s smile grows bigger and his feet slide forward under the table to touch Castiel’s. Castiel ducks his head slightly. Even though Dean cannot recognise the touch for what it is, he can respond to the rush of feelings that he has for Castiel.

“So where do you want to start?” Dean asks. “We shouldn’t be dodging anyone looking for us, so that should make it easier.”

Castiel looks out the window, at the milling of souls passing by. “Out of the city. It is too big. It is hard to find any pure souls are here – there are too many souls around. It is crowded. I cannot see anything, as everything is blurred and indistinct.”

“Okay. We’ll head west, then? Maybe drop by the Roadhouse,” Dean suggests.

“Maybe,” Castiel says quietly. “I will know the child when I see them.”

“Is there any way I can see who you’re looking for?” Dean asks.

Castiel shakes his head. “You would need to be able to see their souls, and that is not an ability that you possess. I will have to search out one by myself. They are common in children, but it still may take a while.”

“Is there anything specific that we need that’s hard to get, other than the blood?”

Castiel nods. “Yes. The ritual needs to be performed on a ley line. And we need some griffin feathers. But other than that, it is simply an incantation.”

Dean bites his lip. “Sounds simple enough, I guess.”

The waitress arrives with the food, and Castiel watches as she puts down the coffee and the one plate with eggs, bacon, some sausages, toast, hash brown and mushrooms. Dean pushes the cutlery over to him first, and Castiel takes it after a second. Dean picks up the coffee with the milk in it, leaving the black coffee for Castiel.

Dean sips his coffee while Castiel cuts off some egg and bacon and places it in his mouth.

Eyes widening, he looks up at Dean. There’s still residual worry from when they had seen the news report in the hunter’s eyes, but it is quickly clearing. Dean grins at him.

“Nice?”

Castiel nods and swallows. “Yes. It is not as good as yours, but I like it.”

“Awesome,” Dean says, snagging one of the sausages and gulping it down. “Not bad,” he says through a mouthful of food.

They continue eating their breakfast, Castiel consuming less than Dean. The hunter is happy to eat everything the angel doesn’t touch, and Castiel enjoys the obvious pleasure that Dean is getting from eating the food.

“So what’s the plan?” Dean asks him. “Where do we go to first?”

“We should gather all of the ingredients that we need before we try and get the blood of the pure souled child. It will only be viable for a few days after it is collected before its properties disappear.”

Dean nods, looking pensively down at the food. “Okay then. Let’s start as soon as we’re done here, okay?”

Castiel feels his mouth twitch up in a smile. “Very well. As soon as you have finished, we will leave.”

Dean seems to take that as a personal challenge, because it is not long after that they are back in the Impala, Dean speeding along the roads to get to their destination as fast as he can manage.

~*~*~*~

“It was unlikely that we would find someone the first time that we looked,” Cas tells him, looking up with wide, blue eyes. “Do not worry.”

Dean opens the door of the Impala. “Still. I want to find a kid so we can do this thing.”

“Of course,” Cas says. “And we will.”

Dean sighs and starts the engine. “Yeah. I just don’t want it to take forever.”

They had sat at a playground for five hours, looking at the kids who had been around. Dean had started by just soaking up the sun, but he had gotten antsy eventually. Even after he had bought them lunch, Cas still hadn’t spotted anyone. It had made Dean grumpy.

“It won’t. We should find one soon. They are fairly common in children.”

Dean runs a hand through his hair. “If you say so.”

They drive in silence for a while. When they get to a crossroads, Dean looks at Cas. “Which way?”

“Left.”

Dean turns the way that Cas had directed. Every time they reach a major intersection, he looks at the angel for directions. Cas calmly tells him which way to go each time, and it isn’t long before they’re on a high way, and Dean feels himself relaxing, calming down as the asphalt sped by under his wheels.

Cas has them drive for the whole day, and when Dean’s stomach grumbles for the third time, he stops at the next town that has a motel. The lunch he had snagged from a gas station hadn’t done much for him, so he’s on the lookout for anywhere where the food looks good and yet is cheap. Ephraim is small, but Dean spots a Walmart on one side of town, so it’s good enough for him.

The motel isn’t upscale, but there’s no roaches running around the rooms, so Dean’s been in worse rooms, even if some of the stains look very suspicious.

“There was a phone in the lobby. I’m going to call Sam. He’s probably freaking out right now.”

“You did send him a text,” Cas mollifies him. “He probably knows that you had to keep quiet and hidden after what happened.”

Every time Dean had turned on the radio that day, half of the time, the presenters were talking about the mysterious happenings that had happened in Phoenix. Dean had eventually just shoved one of his tapes in and they had listened to his music for the drive. He isn’t sure what Sam is thinking. He would know that Dean and Cas are the ones in the video, and Dean’s text probably had him more worried than reassured.

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean grumbles. “But still. If I were him I’d be going nuts.”

“He has Alicia and Jess to worry about,” Cas reminds him. Dean shrugs.

“Still. I’m going to call.”

Dean closes the door behind him, putting his hand in his pocket to dig for change. He feeds the change into the phone, and types in Sam’s number.

“Hello?” Sam asks cautiously.

“Sammy,” Dean greets tiredly, running a hand over his face.

“Dean!” Sam exclaims. “Oh my god, I’ve been so worried. First of all, the text out of nowhere, and then when I flicked on the news, do you know what I saw?”

“Yeah, Cas and I saw it,” Dean sighs. “It’s pretty fucked up.”

Sam is quiet for a few seconds. “Are you okay?” He finally asks.

“Yeah,” Dean says, rushing to reassure his brother. “We’re fine. But I think we’re going to have to stay off the radar for a while until things cool down.”

“What’s happening Dean?” Sam asks quietly. “Our phone calls lately have been a bit weird. You’ve changed. And now all this stuff with the angels…”

Dean feels his throat clog. He knows Sam won’t judge him for Cas. The only reason Sam didn’t want him hooking up with guys when they were younger was because he was being hurt by the other men. He sighs and looks up at the ceiling.

“It’s complicated Sam. Really twisted and screwed up and all jumbled into a massive pile of shit. It’d take too long to tell you now. Just keep safe, okay? Make sure all your wards are up to date, and tell Jess to be cautious. Take care of Alicia.”

“Dean,” Sam says, and Dean hates how his brother is sounding worried. It’s _his_ job to keep Sam safe. Sam shouldn’t have to worry about anything. He should be happy with his wife and daughter, not worrying about him and whatever crap Dean had gotten himself into.

“Please, Sam,” Dean says.

There’s a pause. Dean taps his fingers nervously against his leg while he waits for his brother’s answer.

“I’ll come down and help,” Sam offers. “Take some time off work.”

“No,” Dean growls. “You’ve already had too much time off because of me. And Jess needs someone there who knows what to do if something goes wrong.”

Dean can picture Sam rubbing the back of his neck on the other end of the phone. “Fine,” he finally says. “But if anything else happens, I’m coming, and you can’t stop me. Deal?”

Dean would feel better with his brother by his side. Sam had always had a calming effect on him, someone who could see through his shit and had his back on hunts. It would be nice to have him here. But Sam has other commitments, and Dean doesn’t take up all of his time anymore.

“Okay,” Dean relents. “Look, I’ll try to call when I can, but it might be patchy. Don’t be surprised if someone turns up on your doorstep and starts asking questions about me.”

“I get it,” Sam replies. “Do you need me to do anything else?”

“Actually…” Dean says. He outlines his plan of getting Sam to wire him some money. Sam agrees, and sets up a new account for him on his computer while they talk. Dean writes down the account number and pin, so he can go to the nearest bank and get a card for it ASAP.

“Thanks Sam. I appreciate it.”

“No worries. Stay safe. And tell Cas hi from me.”

“Will do.”

Dean stares at the phone for a minute after he hangs up. Then he shakes his head and heads back up to their room.

Cas answers the door when Dean knocks. The angel peers up at him when Dean closes the door behind him.

“Did you contact Sam?” He asks.

Dean nods. “Yeah.” He sighs. “He offered to come down and help, but I told him that he should stay with Jess and Alicia.”

“We may need help in the future,” Cas muses quietly. “But it is probably wiser for him to stay with his family now. They will need protection from anything that knows about them and tries to use them to get to you.”

Dean clenches his jaw. “I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

Cas steps closer to him. “Sam knows how to defend them. They will be safe.”

Dean looks away from Cas. “You don’t even know Sam. How do you know that he’ll be fine?”

“Because I know you,” Cas tells him, and Dean feels a hand come up to brush against his shoulder. “Because you would not let Sam go into the world unable to fight against anything that might come after him.”

Dean feels the corner of his mouth tweak up in a smile. “True.” He shakes his head. “We booked this room for a reason. Get ready for bed.”

Cas nods. Dean grabs his toothbrush out of his bag and goes through the daily rituals of getting ready to sleep.

It ends with him sliding under a sheet next to Cas, the heat of the night not allowing for any more blankets than that. The angel is watching him calmly, and Dean doesn’t waste any time moving right over to where he is. Dean left his shirt off in the heat, and since Dean had taken off his undershirt this morning, Cas’s chest is bare as well. Cas sighs softly and his hand reaches up to brush against the hand print on Dean’s shoulder. It sends a quaver through him, and he blinks it off. Even knowing that Cas had probably just touched his soul… It’s too weird to think about. The angel fits his hand into the perfect mirror of his palm on Dean’s shoulder easily, and his blue eyes pin Dean in place.

This time it’s Cas that leans over to him, and Dean can’t say he minds it. Cas presses their lips together softly, and Dean slides a hand over the angel’s waist to his lower back and pulls him closer. Cas makes a small sound in the back of his throat, and Dean chases it, stroking his fingers over the soft skin of his neck. Cas’s hands run through his hair, and Cas tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

Dean can feel the roll of muscles under his hand. Whoever the vessel was, he must have jogged or something, because although Cas isn’t ripped, there is the smooth leanness of a runner in the lines of his body.

Dean digs his nails into the skin of his back, and Cas lets out a startled sound. Dean nudges his head forward, sucking Cas’s lower lip into his mouth. Cas sighs and Dean tastes the air that the angel lets out.

It doesn’t last for long. Dean finds himself stroking a thumb over Cas’s cheekbone while staring into the angel’s eyes, and he isn’t sure how long they’ve been doing it for. He tangles their legs together in an attempt to get closer to the angel.

_What did I do to deserve you?_

“Good night Cas,” Dean whispers. Cas does his twitch version of a smile.

“Good night Dean,” the angel replies quietly. Dean pulls him closer, settling them together in the bed and hoping for a peaceful night without any dreams to disturb it.

~*~*~*~

“I feel like a total creep doing this,” Dean mutters, looking around at all of the kids playing in the park. The numerous parents who are socialising while keeping an eye on their children ring the edges of the playground, some sitting on the council provided seats, while others stood in groups.

Castiel is staring intently at the kids. Dean shifts uncomfortably, looking around to make sure that none of the parents had marked the two men staring at the children, who are playing and having fun. Dean frowns as one kid pushes over another one, but doesn’t interfere. God knows what would happen if some protective parent decided that Dean is trying to kidnap their offspring.

“Is there anyone here?” Dean asks. Cas hasn’t said anything for a few minutes, and they’re beginning to get weird looks from people. Cas hasn’t moved, his gaze locked on one of the kids.

“Maybe,” Cas says quietly. “I need to get closer.”

 _Great,_ Dean thinks, running a hand over their face. In the moment that his eyes were closed, Cas had started walking towards the child he wanted to look more closely at. Dean abortively tries to jerk Cas back by his coat, but the angel has already moved out of his reach. Dean smiles at the people looking at him, trying not to let it look pained. _Nothing here folks._

Cas crouches next to a small boy, and Dean spots a parent making her way towards him, her brow pinched in a frown.

 _Time to get out of here._ “Cas!” He calls. The angel looks back at him, and Dean pointedly looks towards the mother making her way towards Cas. Cas flicks a look at her before turning back to the kid. Dean rubs the back of his neck, hoping that no one would call the police.

Just before the mum reaches her child, Cas stands up and exchanges a few words with her. Mollified, she picks up the small person, and watches Cas come back to Dean. Dean sees the vial that the angel pockets, and smiles slightly.

Cas meanders back over to Dean, who looks down at the angel expectantly. “Did you get it?” He asks quietly, looking around at the playground and the other families that are there.

Cas nods. “Yes. I explained to the child that I needed his blood to stop something terrible from happening, and once I assured him that no needles would be involved, he was agreeable to letting me take some of his blood.”

Dean shakes his head. “You have a way with kids. Who would’ve guessed.”

Cas cocks his head and Dean resists the urge to smile. “Come on. Now that we have the blood, we can decide where we’re going to do this thing.”

Cas nods. “I believe that the best place would be on a ley line. There is one near here.”

“We still need to get all the stuff though.”

“Simple. We will find somewhere that is hunter friendly. They should have everything that we need.”

Cas points out the general direction of the ley line, and Dean drives towards it while also looking for a shop where they could get the stuff they would need.

They’re nearly at the border of Idaho before Dean sees a place. He pulls over and parks, seeing the symbol in the window of the psychic’s shop that means that it sells to hunters.

Cas follows him into the store. There’s a man behind the counter, and he takes one look at them before putting away his magazine.

“How can I help you two?” He asks.

Dean puts the list that Cas had written on the counter. “So you have all of this?”

The guy takes one look at it and scratches his head. “I’ll have to check about the feathers, but everything else should be easy.”

He starts getting everything on the list, and the pile grows until all that’s needed are the griffin feathers. Dean is standing next to Cas, their arms brushing if either of them move.

“I’ll go ask my mum,” he says, and turns to go to the back. Dean snorts.

“We could walk out with that right now, and we wouldn’t have to pay.”

“But we will not, and he knows that,” Cas replies.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“He has latent psychic ability, likely from his mother. He can sense people’s intentions. He knows that we will not leave with the items.”

“Huh,” Dean says. “Sounds like a handy thing to be able to do.”

“Not always. It drives some insane, especially if they are around people with murderous intentions. It is most likely why they live here. It’s not a very large town.”

Dean bites his lip and looks at the angel. “Everything has its drawbacks, I guess.”

Cas nods just as the boy comes back out with the feathers. Dean pays the large bill in cash, which leaves him with nearly nothing left. He chooses to ignore that in favour of giving Cas some of the items to carry out to the Impala.

Cas makes sure that everything is stored securely in the trunk. Dean watches on amused as the angel fusses, making sure that nothing would roll around while the car is in motion.

“It’ll be fine Cas,” Dean finally says.

“None of the ingredients can have anything else on them Dean,” Cas tells him, frowning slightly. “It would disrupt the ritual.”

When Cas finally has the trunk arranged to his liking, Dean drags a hand down his angel’s spine, reaching up to close the Impala. He looks up at the sky, noticing for the first time the black clouds on the horizon.

Cas lets out a huff and walks around to the passenger door, opening it and getting in. Dean smiles for a second, getting in and turning the engine over. Music starts playing through the speakers, and Dean grins at Cas, who rolls his eyes.

“You know where we’re going?” Dean asks.

Cas nods. “Yes. I had several sites already chosen for where the ritual could be performed once the order was given, and one is close to here. We should arrive in about two hours, which would give us the rest of the day to complete the ceremony.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dean says, turning out onto the main road. “You just tell me where this show’s goin’ down.”

Cas tilts his head and Dean smirks, following the instructions that Cas gives him.

They finally arrive at their destination, although Dean doesn’t think it’s much of a destination.

“Here,” the hunter says disbelievingly.

“Here,” Cas answers.

Dean looks over at the angel. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Cas tilts his head. “No. I believe that this is an appropriate place to conduct the ritual. It is isolated, on a ley line, and it is unlikely that we will be disturbed.

Dean can’t argue with that. But still. “Okay then. Into the garbage dump we go,” he mutters, as he turns off the engine of the Impala and opens the door. Cas does as well on the other side of the car.

Dean gets everything that they’ll need for the ritual out of the trunk, and hands half of it to Cas to carry. The angel takes it without complaining.

Dean lets Cas pick his way through the piles of trash. Cas would know the best place for the ritual, since he could see the ley lines and Dean couldn’t. A rumble overhead makes Dean look up, and he looks at the storm clouds gathering, and wonders if they’re going to have to do this in the rain. They continue walking for twenty minutes before the angel pauses in a clearer than usual space.

“Here?” Dean asks. Cas looks around for another minute before nodding.

“Yes. I think that this would be the most appropriate place to conduct the ritual.”

Cas starts laying out the first layer of the circle, a line of salt. Dean puts the candles at five regular intervals around the circle, making sure that the wicks are ready to be lit. Cas then puts the wreath of lavender and rosemary on his head and steps into the circle.

Dean waits until Cas nods at him before he lays out the spices and griffin feathers, one at every cardinal point. Cas stands at the centre of the circle, eyes closed and mouth pursed in a frown.

Dean checks the circle and the ingredients one more time. “You sure you don’t need a map?” He asks. Cas nods sharply once, and Dean doesn’t say anything else, not wanting to break the angel’s concentration.

Cas starts mumbling, and Dean knows that even if he could hear the words the angel is saying, there is no way that he’d be able to understand them. Cas had been teaching him Enochian, but there had been millions of years for the angels to perfect their own language and Dean had been learning it for less than six months. Cas would always be more fluent than him, even if he did nothing else but study the language for the rest of his life.

Cas lights the candles with a wave of his hand, one at a time, when he reaches the right point in the spell. Dean touches his angel blade, the demon knife and his tattoo, making sure that all of them are intact. The candles melt in the hour that Cas is speaking, and Dean watches as the spices catch on fire when the flame reaches them. By then he’s been sitting on the ground for a while, but Cas shows no signs of being uncomfortable.

The spices burn for an unnaturally long time. The ring around Cas burns in different colours, green and red and blue. It reaches his hips, and Dean isn’t sure how the angel is coping with the heat. Dean is sweating like a pig, and he’s about as far away as he can get from the fire, under a small outcropping of garbage. At least the scent of the spices eclipses the scent of the tip.

It’s another fifteen minutes before anything changes. Cas abruptly falls silent, and Dean stands, looking around for anything out of the ordinary. When he looks at the angel, there’s a quiet look of concentration on his face, and Dean can only assume that he’s getting the direction from the spell.

Cas spins around to a different direction. Dean tenses, but nothing else happens. He looks around and then concentrates on the angel in the circle of fire in front of him.

“What way is it pointing?” Dean asks, after a minute has passed.

“North,” Cas replies quietly.

“Uh,” Dean says, confused. “North is above Ohio. And when we were there it said south.”

“These rituals are extremely vague,” Cas says. “It’s not strange to get opposite readings.”

“Fuck,” Dean mutters. “Well, then which one is right?”

“This one, I would think. It’s probably closer, and the closer that the ritual is, the more accurate the reading.”

“Awesome,” Dean mumbles. “So what’s next?”

Cas frowns. “Everyone would have felt us complete the ritual, but because we are the only ones here, they will not know what direction we were pointed in. The demons will likely choose a location different from here, and find their own direction. We should try to find where they are, and then try and find out what direction they are pointed in.” Cas breaks the circle and the fire dies all at the same time, falling down and disappearing as if it had never been there.

Dean nods. “Make sense. So where do we –”

There’s a flapping sound behind him, and Dean pauses mid-sentence. Cas’s face freezes, and Dean slowly turns to look behind him.

“Boys,” Zachariah greets them. “Having a good day?”

“It just got a lot worse,” Dean murmurs.

Zachariah lifts his eyebrows. “Now, now Dean. Don’t be like that. We’re feeling grateful for your services. Don’t annoy us and use that up too soon.”

Dean tenses. Cas slowly moves towards him, until he’s behind Dean. It makes the hunter feel better, but the situation isn’t looking up. More flapping sounds echo behind him, and he doesn’t want to think of how many angels they could be facing.

“We thought you would try something like this,” Zachariah says haughtily. “And we had someone watching the child that you took the blood from. As soon as we had eyes on you, we kept watch. We know everything,” Zachariah sneers, his eyes full of disdain, “That you’ve been doing. We knew where this was going to happen, and we knew you were going to be here. You had no opportunity to avoid us finding out about this.”

Dean bares his teeth at the angel, backing up until his back is pressed against Cas’. His angel is tense, and Dean doesn’t want to know how many angels he’s looking at.

“It’s time for both of you to come in,” Zachariah sniffs. “Castiel, you will be terminated immediately. Dean, as you most likely already know, will be taken to Michael. My brother wishes to… meet with you.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean growls at the bald angel. Zachariah laughs for a second.

“Ah, no. You don’t get a choice. Both of you will be taken. The more angelic lives that you take, the more you will regret resisting us. Don’t make this hard for everyone. Lay down your arms.”

“No,” Cas says, voice gravelly. “We will not submit.”

“Well then it looks like we have a problem,” Zachariah says blandly. “Disarm them.”

Dean relaxes into his fighting stance, ready for whatever may come. That’s probably what saves his life.

Instead of the angels swarming forward and overwhelming them with ease, some sort of bomb goes off just behind where Zachariah is standing. The bald angel blocks most of the blast, but the rest slams into Dean, and Cas behind him. A piece of concrete that would have probably gone straight through Dean’s head instead knocks into the back of Castiel’s, which would hurt, but wouldn’t kill him. The other angels let out harsh screeches that ascend until Dean can’t pick them up because of their high frequency. Cas screams as well, and Dean thinks that if it had been bad enough to affect the angels, then he should have been affected as well. Since the full blown angels are near writhing on the ground, and he’s only in mild discomfort, he’s going to go ahead and think that it affects angels and not humans.

He kneels down next to Cas, letting the angel lean on him as he pants, his eyes squeezed shut. Dean looks around, trying to see the source of the bomb. Cas’s blood is sticky when he touches the angel’s head.

The dark clouds that have been gathering all day suddenly seem a lot closer. A wind filled with sulphur blows over the clearing, and Dean touches the demon killing knife at his belt, making sure that it’s there.

“Dean,” Cas gasps. “Demons.”

“Yeah, I got that far,” Dean mutters. “Come on, we have to get out of here. This has gone downhill way too fast.”

Cas nods, and Dean helps him to his feet. The angels are simply lying on the floor now, but they look exhausted, and so does Cas. The angel leans on him heavily, head hanging and eyes shut tightly, and Dean looks around for a way out. The trail through the dump they had used to get here is gone, trash blocking the path. The angels are beginning to stir, so Dean sees a new path that is in the general direction of the Impala, and starts dragging Cas towards it.

“Nuh uh uh Dean-o. You’re not getting out of here that fast.”

Dean shudders to a halt, the familiar voice making him freeze.

“Dean,” Cas whispers. “He’s not here for you.” The angel’s voice is filled with pain, and Dean feels a rush of hopelessness go over him.

“Wrong, Castiel. I’m still a little bit mad at Dean for evading me the last time we saw each other. I didn’t get to do nearly anything that I wanted to.”

Dean grits his jaw, and takes a step forward. Three demons appear in front of them, smirking at him with black eyes.

“Come on Dean. Give over the angel, and come with me. It’ll be like old times. I’ll peel back that skin on your chest, take off the tattoo, and we can go for a ride. It’ll be fun.”

Cas makes a soft sound as Dean’s arms tighten around him.

“Get out of here, before I kill you,” Dean threatens lowly. “Let us leave.” Dean turns his head around to look at the senior demon. Alastair cocks his head, leering at him.

“Don’t be that way Dean,” the demon coos. “The angel isn’t worth it, even though I can smell you all over him. Leave him, come back to me. I know you want to.”

“No thanks,” Dean responds, drawing the demon blade. He lowers Cas to the ground, the angel looking like he’s having trouble supporting his own weight. “What was that?”

“The bomb?” Alastair asks, eyes flicking white as he surveys his work, staring at Cas on the ground. Dean has to fight to not throw himself at the demon just to get his gaze away from the angel. “Just a piece of weaponry long forgotten. It took me _forever_ to figure out. It cuts their connection to their Grace,” the demon sneers in his nasally voice. “I haven’t figured out how to make it permanent yet though. They’ll get their wings back in an hour or so.”

Fuck. No wonder Cas is near passed out. His Grace is an intrinsic part of him. Dean swallows. There are four demons, including Alastair. He would have thought there would be more.

“Where’s the rest of your lackeys?” Dean asks. “You only running around with three? What is the world coming to?”

Alastair’s eyes are still white. “I have enough support. It’s not like this is a hard mission.”

“I’d think it’d be more important,” Dean muses out loud, trying to buy time. At the moment, if he tried to take on everyone, he’d fail miserably. If something else happened, it might give him the advantage. “Is Azazel trying to grab power?”

Alastair scowls at him, moving forward a few steps. Dean hesitates; he can’t be between Cas and the three demons and Alastair at the same time. Judging Alastair to be the bigger threat, he stands between the angel and the demon.

Alastair’s eyes flick back to normal. “Dean, Dean, Dean. We’ve been through a lot, you and I. For old time’s sake, come with me. Put down the knife.”

The angels aren’t moving. When he flashes a look over his shoulder, the grunts have gotten closer. Tensing, he comes up with a plan, which had as much of a chance of him dying as the situation he is in now does. But at least he’d be taking some of them with him.

In an explosion of motion, Dean leaps over Cas and stabs one of the demons in the chest before they realise that they’re in danger. The first moment is the one time he has the upper hand, so he tries to prolong it for as long as he can, but the other two demons are wise of him now, and he only manages to get in a shallow cut to one’s forearm. Not letting up, he dodges the knife one had pulled and ducks under a punch from the other, jamming it in its thigh. It won’t kill, but it’ll hurt like a bitch.

Sure enough, the demon howls and lets up its attack. Dean doesn’t turn fast enough to get away from the other demon, and it hits him, throwing him into a pile of trash. He gasps as he falls to the bottom of the pile, hearing an ominous noise above him. The garbage is about to fall, and Dean takes the opportunity to stab the demon he had stabbed in the thigh as it tries to get away from the falling garbage. That leaves one and Alastair.

Dean gets out of the way, running towards where he had left Cas. The trash crashes to the ground loudly, and Dean looks around for Cas. The other grunt had been left on the other side of the garbage, but Alastair is on this side.

Dean tries not to think about anything when he finds Cas’s trench coat. He clutches the tan fabric as he continues to search through the dump, trying to find his angel.

He can’t see Cas anywhere. Trying not to panic, he runs a hand through his hair, dislodging several items. He still has both angel and demon blades, although his gun had been lost somewhere. Looking around frantically for Cas, he goes through the maze, trying to see where the angel might have hid. Alastair isn’t anywhere, and he’s beginning to panic.

“Cas!” Dean yells, looking around for the angel. He doesn’t call out for his partner too often, not wanting anything else to know that he’s there. He doesn’t know who else will be around; demons, or angels, or humans.

“Cas!” Dean shouts again, looking around frantically for any glimpse of the angel. But nothing presents itself, and Dean finds himself lost, alone, and with no one for back up in a hostile land of creatures that want possession of his soul.


	14. Absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Cas taken by Alastair, Dean turns to his family for help.

“Cas!” Dean shouts. He’s given up on hearing a response, and it’s more unwillingness to stop searching than any hope of finding the angel that has him continuing to call out now. He has an angel blade in one hand and Cas’ coat draped over the other arm, and he isn’t sure where he is.

The angel is nowhere to be found, and Dean can only come to the sickening conclusion that Alastair has him. He remembers his dream of the demon torturing Cas, and tries not to vomit. _That won’t happen. That won’t happen. That won’t happen_. It becomes a chant in his mind, something to keep him walking when he just wants to drop to his knees and howl at the sky.

He must have made his way around in a circle, because he recognises where he is as the other side of where he had last seen Alastair and Cas. His footsteps become lighter as he focuses on his surroundings more. There should be another demon around here somewhere, if it hasn’t left already. And Dean doesn’t think that it has left.

It only takes another minute of Dean searching around the area before he finds the demon. Or rather, the demon finds him.

Dean grunts as the weight of something heavy hits his back. His knees buckle under the weight, and he throws an arm up to stop the demon from pushing a knife into his throat. It skates across his forearm instead, and Dean uses the bite of pain to help him grab the demon and get it off him.

As soon as the demon’s on the ground, Dean stabs it, thrusting the angel blade deep into its side. The demon lets out a choking sound, the body of a young man falling limp under Dean’s hands.

Dean grimaces at the blood, and wipes off as much as he can on the demon’s clothes. The man wouldn’t need them, after all. After he’s done that, he stares down at the body. There shouldn’t be any more demons here. And Cas is gone.

He breathing quickens when he thinks about that, but he physically forces himself to calm down, to calm his breathing and his blood rate. He’s not going to help Cas by fainting here. He repeats that in his head a few times.

The unexpected noise of a phone ringing startles him.

It’s coming from the demon’s pocket. Dean rolls the body over to get to the front pocket of his jeans where the phone is kept. When he looks at the screen, it simply says ‘Boss.’

Dean swallows before pressing the green button and lifting the phone to his ear.

There’s silence on the other end. Dean doesn’t cave and say anything, but the demon on the other end still somehow knows that it’s him.

“Dean,” Alastair’s voice purrs. “I was expecting you to kill the demon I left behind, but I had no idea you’d be so _snappy_ about it.”

“Alastair,” Dean says lowly. The demon chuckles.

“That’s right Dean. We didn’t get much of a chance to talk when you tried to stab me with that pretty little knife of yours.”

“I don’t plan on speaking with you Alastair. I’d much rather just kill you before you open your mouth,” Dean says softly, dangerously.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Alastair says, still too jovial in Dean’s opinion.

“Why not?” Dean asks.

“Because Dean, not only do I know where your brother is, at this _exact_ moment I have your angel. Although, I wouldn’t call him much of an angel any more. I was going to keep him, to try and figure out why his Grace was ripped from him and the other Heavenly scum got theirs back, but I suppose I can arrange a trade.” Alastair’s voice is made more disgusting by the static of the phone. Dean feels his nails bite into his palms.

“You _will_ give him back.”

“Only if you do some things for me,” Alastair replies. It sounds like the demon is having too much fun. Dean fights to keep his breathing under control.

“What do you want?” He says, fighting to not snarl the words.

Alastair laughs. It’s not a nice laugh. It’s mocking and contemptuous and _evil_.

“Well, if I only knew how easy it would be to get you to give in. I should have kidnapped the angel _months_ ago.”

Dean closes his eyes and waits for Alastair to get to the point.

“I smelt you on him. _All over_ him. Can I ask, how did you manage to convince an angel to Fall for you? To bend over for you? It’s not something that just anyone can do, and although you’re special, you’re not _that_ special. The halos aren’t usually into getting down and dirty with mortals. It’s a demon’s job to corrupt. Maybe my teachings went deeper than I thought.” Alastair’s voice turns thoughtful.

“I didn’t convince Cas to do anything,” Dean snarls. And Alastair is wrong, anyhow. He and Cas _hadn’t_ … done anything that Alastair is implying. The demon doesn’t know everything. Dean tries to hold onto that thought when he continues. “Now, _what do you want_?”

“I’ll get what Castiel knows out of him,” Alastair continues conversationally, as if Dean hadn’t spoken. “You know some of the things I can do to him. And although there’s still enough angel in him so that I can’t possess him, there are still things I can do with him as is. I did some of them to you. Good times, yes?”

Dean’s breathing has picked up, and he’s trying not to let red cloud his vision. He tries not to let memories of Alastair coming into his cell, of the demon holding him down no matter how he struggled, of his weight and his laugh come to the front of his mind.

“And as for what I want…” Alastair trails off. “It’s simple, really. I want you, again. I want you willing to serve Hell in all the ways you were serving Heaven. You know you’re needed for the final step of the spell. Let me possess you and finish the spell. And maybe I won’t kill your angel.”

The phone clicks and the buzzing sound of a dead line comes over the phone.

Dean lets it fall out of his limp fingers, his eyes unfocused. He looks down at the phone, unseeing, for a long time.

Then he bends down, picks it up, and dials a familiar number.

“Hello?” His brother’s familiar voice answers.

“Sam,” Dean says shakily. “I need help.”

~*~*~*~

Castiel wakes in darkness.

It is disorientating. Not only is he not used to sleeping, he can see in the dark. Could see in the dark.

It is cold – his coat is gone – and he can hear a dripping sound in the distance. A ragged moan starts, becoming louder before fading away. He swallows.

He tries to move his wings. They do not respond, and he frowns. He tries to move them, feel them, acknowledge in _any_ way that they’re there.

Nothing happens.

Castiel tries not to let a choked sound come up from his throat. He’s cold and wet and the ground is hard where he’s lying on it. When he looks up, there’s a sliver of light that lets him see part of the binding on the roof, one designed for him, with his name worked into it. While the rest of this place might be filthy, nothing mars the surface of the binding spell, done in blood.

He sits up slowly, cataloguing the various aches and pains around his body. The biggest is his head, and the memory of a piece of cement colliding with his skull surfaces.

Dean had been with him then. His breaths become faster and he looks around quickly. Dean. Where is Dean? How had he gotten here?

He starts at the first memory of the day. Dean snoring quietly beside him, arms wrapped around him securely. It calms him, and he takes a deep breath before continuing. He moves through the day slowly, remembering how they had purchased the ingredients for the spell and then found the pure blood. Or had the blood been first, and then the ingredients? He shakes his head.

Then they had completed the spell, and Castiel had discovered the exact direction in which the sword is. And then his siblings had shown up. And then Alastair had hit him and the other angels with some sort of… spell, he supposes. He had felt it stripping him of his Grace, the already loose thing tearing away easily. He hadn’t made any effort to grasp it either, because of the recoil from the cement, and that had probably been why it had left so easily.

His stomach turns over. Dean had defended him against the demons. And Dean is not here.

Castiel swallows, looking around his cell. He stands slowly, wincing, and walks slowly to the edge of the binding. When he presses against it, it bends outwards, his hand feeling like it is pressing against something slick and gelatinous. The further he pushes outwards the harder it is to move.

When he pulls his hand back in, it tingles for a minute. He rubs it while looking out the window. He can see another cell through the bars, the space behind it a shadowy darkness, swallowing all light that comes near it.

The shaky moan starts up again. Castiel looks uneasily around him. Steps echo through the hallway. A laugh starts, insane and wild, which is quickly quieted when someone kicks a door, the rattle too loud in the otherwise quiet corridor.

The steps stop outside his cell. There is the clunk of a lock turning and the door ponderously swings open.

Castiel does not recognise the demon. She looks bored, but Castiel recognises the pair of hand cuffs in her hands. He hurries to the opposite side of the binding, pressing against the gooey wall to try and get away from the demon.

She sighs. “Don’t make this hard,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Just come here.”

Castiel shakes slightly as he tries to stay away from her. But she’s a demon, and he has none of his powers, so it takes less than a minute of Castiel scrambling away and her following him until she’s forcing the cuffs around his wrists.

Castiel feels the cuffs snap around his wrists tightly. He waits for the inevitable pain of the enchanted metal against his skin, for it to snap his Grace and wings into submission… but nothing happens.

That scares Castiel more than if he had been in pain.

The demon breaks the binding spell and easily drags him out of the filthy cell. Castiel keeps his feet under him, stubbornly walking behind the demon, even though her stride is longer than his, and he stumbles over the uneven floor.

He memorises the passages as they go through them, probably all designed the same to confuse escapees and to prevent them from leaving. But he’s had millennia to train his mind, and something like this is easy to remember.

It’s a long walk. The passages only get dirtier the further they go in, and Castiel can tell that they are beneath the surface of the earth, possibly a long way down. No one would accidently stumble across this place.

When they stop outside a door, it’s almost a relief. They go in, and the only furnishings are two chairs, one metal and one plush, and low table. The demon still looks bored as she locks Castiel to the metal chair and gags him, Castiel angrily allowing it when she threatens to snap his neck.

The demon leaves. Castiel waits.

It’s an hour before Alastair comes in. The demon smirks at him, and if Castiel could have made any noise, then he would have.

“Castiel. How pleasant of you to cooperate with Georgia.” Alastair sits in the other chair on the opposite side of the room, one that is more comfortable than the one that Castiel is sitting in. “I contacted Dean and told him that I have you. He was most… receptive to getting you back. Or at least to not seeing you dead.” The demon slowly tilts his head. “Thank you. You make Dean easily pliable.”

Castiel narrows his eyes.

“Of course, with you gagged it’s sort of a one sided conversation,” Alastair muses. “You see, I’ve told Dean that I’ll trade your life if he cooperates. He seems willing enough. But, you are the only being in existence that knows the direction in which the spell you performed pointed you. I have this,” Alastair drawls, lifting up Castiel’s own blade. “So I can get you to talk. But it’d be much, much nicer if you just told me.” The demon pouts. “Less fun, of course. I _would_ prefer to get my hands dirty. But orders are orders, and mine come from high up. Or low down. What do you say when you’re talking about Hell?”

The demon doesn’t wait for or seem to expect any response. He’s looking at the angel blade, turning it over in his hands. Castiel’s mind is racing, processing all the information that Alastair is giving him and trying to figure out some way in which he could get out of this situation. Like Alastair, his attention is fixed on the angel blade in the demon’s hands.

Alastair finally looks up at him. He walks around to the back of him, and Castiel tries not to flinch with the demon behind his back, having the opportunity to do whatever he wants. Alastair unlocks the chain binding the cuffs together, and Castiel immediately yanks the gag out of his mouth and stands up, turning around to face the demon. Alastair leers at him, eyes flashing white.

“So, pretty bird. Sing me a song, will you? Where is the Sword?”

Castiel bares his teeth and doesn’t answer. Alastair has the only weapon in the room, and he doesn’t have his usual strength, so he can’t beat him in a physical contest. His only option is to get his blade off Alastair.

Alastair’s grin grows bigger. “You’re going to make this difficult, are you? Well, I can’t say I’m upset. Come with me.” Castiel tries to duck under the demon’s arm as it flies towards him, but Alastair must have been expecting that, because Castiel finds his hair in a too tight grip, the senior demon forcing his head back so his neck is exposed. Castiel freezes when his sword touches the skin there.

“Now, now, now. You’re going to be nice and compliant, aren’t you?” Alastair starts dragging him towards the door by his hair, Castiel resisting every step, not wanting to press into the sharp tip of the sword. Castiel struggles as the demon pulls him deeper into the bowls of the maze, Alastair not caring if the tip of the blade cuts into Castiel’s skin because he trips.

And Castiel is afraid. He has seen what Dean went through, in his dreams and from what Dean himself had told him. He can’t let this demon have him. He struggles against Alastair’s grip, the demon putting up with it until Castiel rips his hair out of the demon’s grasp, leaving some dark strands in the demon’s grip. Before he can do anything, Alastair has rounded on him, and Castiel has the breath pushed out of him as he’s thrown against the wall. The back of his head immediately starts pulsating with hurt at the impact with the wall. Gasping, Castiel keeps his eyes trained on the demon.

“You cannot escape here Castiel,” Alastair sneers, and Castiel grimaces as the demon drags his blade through the flesh of his upper arm. “You are under my control now.” The demon trails the blade over his skin, cutting different places as he pleases. Castiel fights not to let any noise escape him, squeezing his eyes shut as the pain assaults him. He hisses as the demon leaves a deep cut across his chest.

“Tell me where the Sword is,” Alastair commands, pausing with the blade’s tip in his upper thigh.

Castiel opens his eyes, baring his teeth at the demon. “Go to hell,” he snarls. Alastair screeches wordlessly at him, and violently pushes the sword into where it had been sitting in his thigh.

Castiel screams as the blade cuts through the muscle of his leg. Moaning quietly, he slips down the wall, free from Alastair’s influence, the sword coming with him when Alastair lets it fall from his grasp.

“You will tell me where the Sword is.” Castiel opens one eye blearily, struggling to breathe. “Or at least, the direction in which you were pointed.” The sword is still in his leg. “There is nothing you can do to stop that.” _The sword is still in his leg_. “It’s inevitable.” Why is that important? “They all talk, eventually.” Sword. His sword. “And so will you.” His sword, that can kill demons.

His sword, that’s within reach.

Castiel pretends that he’s curling up on himself, but he keeps an eye on Alastair the entire time. He blocks the sword form the demon’s eyesight and wraps a hand around it. The demon takes a step closer, and Castiel takes a breath to brace himself against the pain. He would only get one chance.

Alastair takes one more step towards him, and Castiel tightens his hand on the blade. In one motion, he rips it out of his leg and twists, flicking his arm upward and disembowelling Alastair, the demon’s position above him giving him the perfect angle to swipe the blade right through his belly.

The demon makes a strangled sound and Castiel sees hatred enter his gaze. That chills Castiel to the core. He could deal with Alastair wanting to go after him for business reasons, because he’s ordered to. He cannot deal with the demon having a personal vendetta against him.

Castiel lurches to his feet. He’s not going to delude himself – Alastair isn’t dead. Only an archangel’s blade could do that to him: Alastair is powerful. But Castiel had put him down for the time being, and he would use that time to escape.

His body screams at him, and Castiel takes a minute to block off all the pain that he can before staggering back out of the maze, away from the demon on the floor and towards where he could hopefully find a way out. He retraces all the steps that he can find, looking for any way out. He has not come across anyone else, but he is sure that it is just a matter of time until he runs across a demon.

Time ticks by. He wanders around the maze like corridors, building up a map of the place in his mind. It is a miracle that he hasn’t come across any demons yet, but he knows that it is only a matter of time until he finds one, or Alastair recovers enough to sound the alarm.

Castiel pauses when he hears the sound of footsteps. Alarmed, he looks around, trying to find some place to hide from the demons. There’s an alcove in the wall, more like a crack where the earth had split in two next to the tunnel. Castiel wedges himself in as deeply as he can, keeping his breathing even and as silent as he can. The demon’s footsteps shuffle past, and Castiel closes his eyes, hoping that they would not notice his fresh blood amongst all of the other blood on the floor.

They move past him, and Castiel lets out his breath. He slips from the alcove, going in the opposite direction that the demons had gone. He looks over his shoulder, making sure that the demons had not noticed that he had been hiding there. And since he is not looking where he is walking, he catches his foot in a crack on the ground, and his leg gives out under him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

The steps moving away from him stop. Castiel freezes, scrabbling to his feet, panting. The demon’s voices get louder once more, and he starts hobbling forward, looking for any door. He turns down a passageway, and his breath catches as he sees a door that isn’t the same as the ones used to hold prisoners.

Castiel pushes the door open, trying to mute its screech. The steps begin to get louder. He pokes his head in the door, looking around. Letting out a quiet breath as he sees the stairs going upwards, he closes the door behind him after he steps into the room.

Castiel runs up the stairs, feeling Jimmy’s body have to work for the first time in over six months. He’s kept the body as he found it, and he thanks his Father that his vessel’s chosen physical activity had been jogging. He blocks out all of the pain as best he can, ignoring the alarm bells his body is tolling. After several flights his thighs are burning and his breath rasps out from between his lips, but he can still hear demons coming up the steps after him. He pushes on, forcing his body to leap up stair after stair, before he finally gets to the top.

Not only are his muscles burning, he can feel his cuts bleeding and the deeper stab in his leg throbbing with hurt. The door screeches as he opens it, pushing at the rusted hinges. There are two demons waiting for him on the other side, and he loses precious time dealing with both of them. They are not powerful however, and he can deal with them even in his weakened state. Castiel casts a look at the door he had left open before fleeing the building.

He looks around where he had emerged into the sunlight. Despair rises, thick and clogging his throat. Instead of being anywhere where he could immediately escape, he had come out in the middle of a forest. There is no road he could follow, and the entrance is a very small hill in a clearing. There are no landmarks visible in any direction.

Picking a direction, he starts off, sure that he’s leaving a trail of blood that anyone could easily follow. He staggers through the trees, trying not to catch anything on his leg. There’s blood dripping down his shin, and he thinks in a fragmented and disjointed way that the wound might have been deeper than he had thought. When he accidentally steps in a hole in the ground and trips, he cannot find it in himself to get up again. There are dots dancing in front of his eyes, and his head is spinning, spinning, and it feels like he’s trying to stand up on a vertical wall.

He gives up trying to get up and lets himself fade into the blackness that’s waiting for him.

~*~*~*~

Dean waits at the airport terminal that Sam’s flying to. Sam had calmed him down over the phone and had then organised to fly over on the next plane. Dean had only managed to stammer out a few sentences about Alastair and Cas before Sam had interrupted him calmly, telling him that he would be there as soon as possible, and that Dean should get to the airport in Logan, and Sam would be there as soon as the next plane left. Dean had shakily agreed, and had driven straight there, not stopping for food or sleep. A day after Cas had disappeared, and there had been no word from Alastair about anything.

Sam’s plane is due in soon, and Dean’s drinking his fourth coffee since he got there. He wants something stronger than caffeine, but airports are alcohol free zones, and he doesn’t want to get kicked out and miss Sam’s flight.

“Flight 287 passengers, please collect your baggage at terminal two. Have a nice day.”

Dean lifts his head. That had been Sam’s flight and if his brother had packed anything except carry on, Dean would be surprised. He is standing outside the only Starbucks in the place, and that had always been where he and Sam had met if no meeting place had been assigned. Starbucks were pretty easy to find, and the one already there could always get some coffee while they were waiting for the other to show.

Dean feels the tight ball in his chest loosen slightly as he sees Sam coming towards him. His brother is easy to spot, being a head taller than most people, and with his long hair bouncing around his shoulders. He has a backpack slung over his shoulder, and his eyes are scanning the crows, trying to spot Dean. It doesn’t take very long. Dean is sure he’s got a dark scowl on his face, and that coupled with his plaid and ripped jeans covered by his leather jacket, means most people are trying to stay as far away from him as they can. That means that there’s a small space around him in the crowded airport.

“Dean,” his brother greets him, before pulling him into a hug. Dean breathes in the scent of Sam, trying to let it calm him down. The ball loosens some more.

Sam lets him go and steps back. Dean looks up and meets his brother’s eyes. They’re wide and full of concern, and Dean feels a rush of worthlessness. His brother flew here, abandoning job and family, just because Dean had called him and asked. He’s not good enough for the person standing in front of him.

“You good to go?” Sam asks him. Dean nods.

“Yeah. The Impala’s parked outside.”

Sam follows him to where he had parked. He pays the ridiculous parking fee with one of the new credit cards he had picked up. Credit card fraud may be illegal, but he had been low on cash, and he cared very little about the law at the moment.

Before Dean starts the Impala, he looks over to Sam. He doesn’t know what to feel. On one hand, Sam is sitting in the spot that he’s meant to be sitting in, next to him, ready to help him. But Dean had just been getting used to having Cas sitting there, staring at him too much and asking strange questions with a straight face.

Dean purses his mouth and turns to look ahead, starting the engine. They roll out onto the road with minimal fuss, and Dean starts them on the road that leads out of Logan. Dean heads west almost automatically, heading towards the road that would take them to the Roadhouse.

Sam knows that the road calms Dean down, and he must know where they’re going as soon as Dean heads towards the I-84.

“Can we talk when we get there?” Dean asks, voice rough.

Sam nods slowly. “Yeah Dean. We can.”

Dean jerks his head sharply and turns the radio up, trying to drown in the music.

They arrive at the Roadhouse just before the restaurant opens for dinner. Sam and Dean get out and easily walk through the door. The bell chimes when Dean moves it, and before it swings closed behind them, there’s a voice ringing out from the back.

“Shop’s closed for another hour!”

“I hoped we be more welcome than that, Ellen,” Dean yells back. Almost immediately, the doors to the back swing open, and Ellen comes through them.

“Well, well, well. What a surprise. The two Winchesters, turning up out of the blue? Dean, I thought you were a wanted criminal. And Sam, don’t you have a life somewhere north?”

Dean cracks a strained smile. Cas would have taken it all literally, and Dean would have laughed at his confusion when Ellen hugged him. The angel’s absence chokes him for a moment before he can reply. “It’s good to see you too Ellen.”

The older woman grins. “Come here you two.”

Both Dean and Sam willingly hug their foster mother. Ellen looks them both over, shaking her head at Sam.

“I swear, you get taller every time I see you boy.”

Sam ducks his head. “Yes ma’am.”

“Who’s there Ellen?” Bill shouts from the back.

“Dean and Sam,” Ellen yells back. There’s a crash and a muffled curse, and then Bill comes through the doors as well.

“Sam and Dean. Well I never,” the dark haired man says, grinning lopsidedly. He throws a cloth at them both, and then raises his eyebrows. “What, you think you can get out of work just because you don’t live here anymore?”

Dean and Sam shake their heads. Dean starts wiping down all of the tables, putting the chairs down as he does. He knows that Sam is probably burning up with the urge to ask questions, but he won’t ask Dean until Dean tells him he’s ready to spill.

So they clean and welcome the staff as they trickle in. Some they know from when they lived here, but some are new. Dean lets Sam greet the new people and hoped that no one would recognise him as the man from the viral video.

Finally, they sit down in one of the more secluded booths. It’s in the corner, and there’s a reserved table next to them that hasn’t been filled yet, so they could talk without anyone overhearing them. A young girl comes up and takes their orders, and then Sam leans forward, eyes open and ready to listen.

“So what’s been going on?” Sam asks softly.

Dean shakes his head. Sam knows about the angels, sure, but he doesn’t know anything about what Cas had been teaching Dean, or about the angel’s struggles with his superiors. His doesn’t know anything about the weird sword that they’re all chasing. All he knows is that Alastair had Cas, and what he could deduce from that video. Which is probably a lot, since his brother’s a smart cookie.

“It’s a long story Sam,” he sighs.

“You have to start somewhere,” Sam says diplomatically.

Dean nods slowly. Then he tells Sam everything that he can think of, about Cas and the angels and Raziel and his Sword. It takes all night, from when they eat their food and then to when Ellen banishes everyone who isn’t a hunter from the premises, to after when Ellen has kicked everyone out, and Dean’s spilling his story to Sam as they wipe down table and clean the floor.

Ellen’s used her skills in reading them both, and has kept Bill and herself from the front room while Dean talked. She’s probably burning up with her own questions, but she would wait until Dean came to her. That’s something that she learned early when dealing with him.

“And so, I looked around, but I couldn’t find anyone anywhere, until I came across a demon. After killing it, it’s phone rang, and I picked it up. It was Alastair.” Dean’s hands tighten on the rag in his hands, and he forces himself to let it go. “He told me that he had Cas, and that he wouldn’t kill him if I cooperate with him.” Dean doesn’t tell his brother about the coat that’s tucked up in a ball in the trunk of the Impala. It seems too personal somehow. “So I called you, and you know the rest.”

There’s silence. Dean had expected as much. His brother would need some time to absorb all of the new information that Dean had thrown at him. He nervously twists the cloth in his hands, finishing the last table and putting up the last chair. Sam’s already getting the mop, and Dean puts away the last of the bottles behind the bar while his brother cleans the floor.

“That’s fucked up,” Sam finally says. Dean can only nod.

“I know.”

“So what’s the next step?” Dean looks up at his brother. Sam has paused half way through cleaning the floors and is looking at him expectantly, like Dean has the next few moves of the game planned out already.

“Just do what Alastair says until I get Cas back,” Dean says finally, a wave of despair threatening to engulf him. He hasn’t slept in two days. It’s beginning to catch up to him.

“What?”

Dean looks up. “Well what else can I do? He has Cas.”

“Dean,” Sam says, not unkindly. “This is why he took him. He wants leverage. Don’t let it work.”

“Then what am I meant to do?” Dean asks angrily. “Leave Cas to his fate?”

“No!” Sam sounds aghast at the notion. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.” He sighs. “Dean. You haven’t thought this through. Yes, Alastair has Cas. No, it’s not a hopeless situation.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, feeling rather hopeless.

“You can’t just give up Dean. He wouldn’t want that, would he?”

Dean looks at the ground, away from his brother’s eyes. No, Cas wouldn’t want that.

“So, we make a plan. When Alastair contacts you, whenever that is, we look and act like we’re playing along. And then, when we’re near him, we jump him. Bring some holy water and salt, blare a few exorcisms, you have the knife, and kill some bitches. We’ll get Cas back. Dean, look at me.”

Sam has moved to the other side of the counter. Dean slowly raises his eyes, swallowing when he sees the worry in Sam’s. “We’ll get Cas back. I promise.” Dean clenches his jaw. “But until then, there’s nothing we can do. So don’t beat yourself up, okay? Don’t blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault.”

“Bullshit,” Dean grunts.

“It’s not your fault,” Sam repeats.

“That is crap Sam, and you know it. If I had been faster, stronger, smarter…” Dean trails off before rubbing a hand over his face.

“Don’t.” Dean looks up. There are deep pits of anger burning in Sam’s eyes, and Dean looks away from them. “Damnit Dean, don’t say that. You sound like dad.”

Dean flinches, and Sam almost looks apologetic. “It’s true,” Dean mumbles.

“It is the biggest pile of shit I’ve ever heard in my life,” Sam says assertively. “You are worth something to me Dean. You are worth something to Ellen, to Bill, to Bobby and Jo and Charlie. You are worth something to _Cas_. Are you saying that we’re all crazy? That we’re seeing something in a hopeless case? All of these rational, logical, smart people? You think we’re all wrong?”

Dean shakes his head, not looking his brother in the eyes. “That is the real bullshit here Dean. Don’t try and play your whole self-pitying thing to me. I see right through it.”

Dean wants to say that it’s not an act, but his brother’s face tells him to shut up. “You are worth a whole lot Dean,” Sam continues softly. “Don’t make me beat that into you. Because I will do it.”

When Dean looks up Sam is smiling softly. He runs a hand through his hair. “Okay. Fine. We’ll set up an ambush for Alastair and whoever comes along. We find Cas, and no one dies.”

Sam nods sharply. “Sounds pretty good to me.”

~*~*~*~

The radio at her hip buzzes. Madison scowls at it but answers, looking around the forested area.

“Thomas, what is it? I told you to try and keep quiet.”

“I’ve found some guy, unconscious. He’s bloody and I’m pretty sure he escaped from the facility.”

Madison shakes her head. “Where are you?”

“Near the three tree clearing on the west side of the facility.”

Madison starts loping her way over to where Thomas is. Really, she shouldn’t be on patrol, and she shouldn’t be with Thomas either. If something happened to them, the pack would have a large power vacuum in it that would probably tear it apart.

It only takes Madison a few minutes to make it over to where Thomas is. She comes through the trees slowly, watching for any demons that might be around. With so little distance from the facility, there’s a large chance that there will be demons around. Especially if they have an escapee.

Madison hears crashing sounds in the distance, and growls to no one in particular. There _are_ demons coming. They need to get out of here. Whether or not they take the man with them is still to be decided.

Thomas looks nervous, but he relaxes somewhat when he sees her. “There are demons around,” he says quickly. “They’re probably looking for him. We don’t want trouble, we should just leave him here.”

Madison looks at the dark haired man on the ground. There are knife wounds all over him, and she can see the trail of blood that he left when he had made it here. But when she takes a deeper breath, there’s something else there. Thomas is looking around, but she doesn’t pay him any attention.

She kneels next to the man, to try and smell that again. Taking deep breaths, she comes to the conclusion that he is not human – not completely – and that there’s something familiar about his smell.

She breathes in again, trying to place it.

“Madison, we have to go,” Thomas says nervously, looking around. The demons are coming closer. Madison can hear them. If they catch them, they’ll take them or just kill them on the spot. She knows this. They should go, and leave this man here. And yet there is something, _something_ about his smell…

She finally places it. “Dean,” she breathes softly, looking at the man lying on the ground in front of her with new eyes. Dean’s mate. She narrows her eyes. She can’t leave him here.

She picks him up, and Thomas looks like he’s about to argue. She gives him her best glare, and he quiets. He goes in front while she carries the strange man who isn’t human with Dean’s smell on him under the blood. They’re only a few hundred metres out when she knows that the demons have reached the clearing where they found the man. There’s immediate noise and a scuffle, and she increases her speed, moving as quickly as she can while carrying Dean’s mate. He’s dead weight, and she can feel his blood spreading everywhere over her clothes. It’s congealed enough that it won’t drip everywhere, and she hopes that she’s not leaving a trail that the demons can follow. They can’t smell anything over their own sulphur stink, so she doesn’t have to worry about that.

They move through the forest silently, heading towards safety.

~*~*~*~

Ellen and Bill move around the bar, discussing something quietly. Dean watches them while playing with the bottle of beer in his hands. He can’t just expect them to house him and not ask any questions. They both know that approaching Dean usually yields little results, but Dean found himself wishing that they would this one time. It would mean that he could open the conversation more easily.

“Do you want me to talk to them?” Sam asks quietly.

Dean jumps slightly. He hadn’t noticed Sam coming up behind him. He sighs, rolling the bottle from one hand to the other, the beer inside gone warm a while ago. Sam is giving him an out, and he knows it.

“Yeah,” Dean says shakily. He doesn’t think he can explain it twice in less than a day. “If they’ve got any questions, gimme a yell, okay?”

Sam nods. “Got it.”

Dean stands and moves towards the back of the restaurant, where all the things needed to run a successful business are. But there are also the more homely rooms, Ellen and Bill’s room, and the rooms where Sam and Dean had stayed when they were younger.

Dean pushes open the door to what used to be his room, standing in the familiar place and letting it calm him. He had always come here when the world had got to be too much for him. Everything’s pretty much the same as he had left it when he had taken off in the Impala, all those years ago. Ellen isn’t one for change. It makes him feel like he’s eighteen again, safe and secure in the knowledge that this is his home, and had been for two years, and would be for as long as he wants it to be. He can imagine himself and Cas here, curled up safely against everyone and everything. He swallows and shakes his head, loss stabbing it’s jagged edges into him. He closes his eyes and refuses to feel it. Cas isn’t gone. He’s still out there, still alive. There’s still hope.

Dean sits down on the side of the bed and watches the clock click over from three to four. After Sam talked to their foster parents, they would go to bed. Dean doesn’t think anyone will disturb him until the morning. He slowly tugs his boots and socks off, and then lies down on the bed, staring up at the exposed beams in the ceiling. The bed feels too large without another person in it, and Dean tries not to let the loss he feels over Cas’s abduction overwhelm him. Cas would be fine. They would get him back. Dean repeats the words until he could maybe believe in them. The half open curtain is letting a faint gleam of moonlight through, illuminating the room enough so that Dean could see.

He’s had too much to drink, and his head feels fuzzy and light. He hadn’t gone light on the booze while he had been explaining everything to Sam, and it’s starting to catch up to him. Even knowing that he’ll regret it in the morning, he doesn’t take any more of his clothes off or brush his teeth, letting his eyes close gradually and the world fade.

_Alastair grinned at him, teeth stained red with blood._

_“So Dean, are you going to be a good boy? Or are you going to make me get inside your lovely meat suit again? I do so love hearing your dark little thoughts.”_

_Dean tried to close his eyes._ This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.

_“Oh, but it is.” Dean didn’t say anything, just mutely shook his head. He heard Alastair’s sigh. “Fine. Possession it is. You know, I find it to be lacking, really. A pupil should learn by their own discretion. Things taught by force rarely stick. But I suppose I’ll have to teach you to like it before anything else happens.”_

_Dean gagged on the smoke, but it forced its way into his mouth anyway. He felt himself losing control over his limbs, until he was completely locked in his own head. He felt Alastair’s leer stretch his mouth._

_“This is better, isn’t it?” His own voice asked. Dean tried to be small. “Fine, fine, I understand. You just want to get to the action. I have a nice one today. So very pretty.”_

_Dean felt himself walk out of the cell without resistance from the demons sanding outside, and Alastair directed the body towards his workroom. A sick sense of_ wrongness _came over him when he saw the man strapped to the table. He was already bloody, knife wounds all over his chest and arms. Blood trickled down from the back of his neck, and Dean could see a deep wound in his thigh._

 _He ran to the man, but the wounds were changing, Alastair on the other side of him, inflicting deeper, deadlier wounds. Dean tried to scream, but no sound was made, and he threw himself at Alastair, anything to get him away from the man. Alastair laughed, and the man opened his eyes and it was_ Cas, _how could he forget_ Cas, _and Alastair had him, fuck,_ Alastair had him –

Dean bolts from his bed to the bathroom down the hall. He throws up, and then presses his forehead to the cool porcelain. The memory of that day had turned into a real nightmare, his fears coming to life in his dreams. He could remember the first part of the dream as a memory. Alastair had taken him into the workroom, and there had been a pretty blonde on the table. She had looked like Jo, and as soon as Dean and thought that, she had _become_ Jo, and then it had been _him_ making Jo scream, cutting into her flesh and –

He throws up again.

“Dean?”

Dean freezes, and then looks around. Sam is standing in the doorway of the bathroom, and Dean nods to show that it’s fine for him to come in.

“Too much to drink?”

That’s probably part of it, but his nightmare had helped as well. He simply nods, however.

Sam looks like he doesn’t know whether to believe him or not. His brother slowly comes towards him, kneeling down next to Dean, even though it probably smells terrible.

“Are you sure?” Sam’s hand comes up and brushes away wetness from his cheeks. Dean shivers; he hadn’t even realised that he’d been crying.

“It probably helped,” Dean says eventually, voice rough. “What time is it?”

“Just after six.”

“Go back to sleep,” Dean tells his brother. Two hours of sleep is enough to get by on.

“I haven’t gone to bed yet,” Sam admits. “I just finished telling Bill and Ellen everything. They’re… not surprised that the angels were bad all along.”

“Not all of them are bad,” Dean reminds Sam.

“Of course,” Sam says easily. “But most are.”

Dean has to concede to that.

“They have questions for you.”

“I’ll deal with them when they wake up.”

Dean doesn’t have to look at Sam to know that his brother is Looking at him.

“You’re going back to sleep.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Dean I can do this all morning.”

“I can’t,” Dean admits softly, trying not to let the sentence sound broken. He doesn’t think he succeeds.

Sam is silent for a few minutes. “Come and sleep with me.”

Dean raises his head to look at Sam. “And put up with your stealing all the blankets?”

“It’s warm, you’ll live. Please,” Sam adds, when Dean doesn’t say anything else.

“Fine,” Dean grunts. “Let me brush my teeth.”

“Okay, I’ll wait for you.”

Dean bares his teeth as Sam avoids his attempt to get out of if, and grudgingly goes to find a toothbrush and some toothpaste. When he’s done, he follows Sam back to his room. Whenever he had had nightmares back in the old days, before all the shit with Alastair happened and when they still lived here, Sam would drag him into his room, and they’d sleep together. It had never failed to calm Dean down.

Even though Sam’s bed is a double now, his brother is so large that he takes up three quarters of the bed on his own. But it isn’t too horrible, Dean thinks sleepily. He has Sam’s back pressed up against his. That by itself calms him down. His brother’s smell winds its way around him, and Dean lets it tug him down into a fitful sleep.

~*~*~*~

This time when Castiel wakes, it’s far nicer.

He’s warm, and he has a pillow under his head. He keeps his eyes shut, trying to figure out where he is before he lets whoever is near him know that he is awake. His knees and palms hurt from where he had fallen over, and the back of his head is throbbing, the wound that had been there from the cement reawakened when Alastair had thrown him against the wall. His thigh is a dull ache of pain that suggests that no movement is the only thing keeping the pain away.

“We know you’re awake,” a female voice says. Castiel opens his eyes and looks up. A woman with dark hair is leaning over him where he’s lying on the ground. He quickly gets up, wobbling slightly when his knees have to click before they’ll take his weight. His thigh screams at him as soon as he moves his leg, but he refuses to lie down in the presence of these unknown people. His head spins slightly, and he tries not to stagger. The woman holds out her hands for him to support himself with, and he does warily, looking at her from lowered eyelids.

He flicks his gaze around, absorbing everything else in the room. It’s small, and there are several doors leading off to other parts of the building. The woman and a man are the only people in the room apart from Castiel.

“Who are you?” Castiel asks, coughing to clear his throat after he completes his sentence and letting her hands drop. The rough movement of the cough makes his thigh screech at him, and he grimaces.

The woman narrows her eyes at him. “I was about to ask you the same question.”

“Where are we?” Castiel asks instead of answering.

“A safe place. I found you, passed out, a few hundred metres away from where we know a demon facility is. Thomas thought that you had escaped from there, but that wasn’t why I had you brought in.”

Castiel breathes deeply. Something about them tells him that they’re not entirely human. His hand goes to where he had stashed his blade, but it’s gone.

“We took your knife off you. It’s quite pretty, and we wanted to make sure that you didn’t hurt anyone before we talked.”

“Who are you?” Castiel asks again, trying to ignore the pain in his leg. The woman sighs and looks at the man. He purses his mouth and backs off a few steps, obviously not wanting to leave. The woman narrows her eyes and he turns, walking out the door.

“I’m Madison,” she says. Castiel nods slowly, flexing his fingers and wishing for something to hold. “It’s polite to offer your name when someone else gives theirs,” Madison tells him, eyebrows raised.

“Castiel,” Castiel replies, after a moment has passed. Madison nods.

“Okay Castiel. I’ve got one question for you.”

“Why did you bring me here? You could have easily left me for the demons to find. They are looking for me now.”

Madison grimaces. “I saved you because I recognised your mate’s smell.”

Castiel blinks, confused. “My what?”

“Your mate’s smell. The smell of who your mate is. It’s something easily detectable to werewolves. Tells us if someone’s taken or not. Yours was marred by blood, but I could still figure out who it belonged to.” Madison takes a step closer, and Castiel takes a step back, keeping distance between them. “Why do you smell like Dean Winchester?”

Castiel swallows. Werewolves. “How do you know Dean?” He asks instead of answering.

“We’ve worked together a few times,” Madison says, shrugging. “The last time I saw him he didn’t have a mate smell on him though, so you must be recent. And you’re not a one night stand, either. You’ve slept together several times.”

Castiel’s tongue felt like it was stuck to the top of his mouth. Yes, he and Dean had shared a bed but there hadn’t been any… mating. Madison is still looking at him suspiciously.

“I…” Castiel says, unsure as to what the proper response is. Madison tilts her head again, but this time it’s more curiosity than antagonism.

“Unless you haven’t mated yet,” she says slowly. “I mean, yes, most of your smell is intent, but there’s contentment and satisfaction in it as well.” Madison shrugs. “Whatever. It’s not like it’s much of my business. I just didn’t take Dean as the type of person to take it slow.”

Castiel swallows. “Thank you for bringing me here,” he says cautiously. There’s little doubt in his mind that the demons would have picked him up if he had stayed where he was. Madison is the reason that he’s not in the clutches of Alastair once more.

His thigh pulses, and he bites his lip. Madison looks down at his leg.

“We picked you up last night. Most of your minor wounds have scabbed over, but that one’s going to take a while to heal. Elspeth put some stitches in it. I’ll get her to go over how to care for them with you. Other than that, you should rest. If anyone disturbs you, let me know.”

“Can I have my blade back?” Castiel asks quietly.

Madison looks at him coolly for a few seconds. Castiel returns the gaze quietly, not letting up under her scrutiny.

“When you leave, you may have it back,” she finally says. “It’s silver. I cannot have it as a threat to my pack.”

Castiel can only nod. He cannot ask more of her, especially after she saved him on his smell only. “Do you have a phone?”

Madison shakes her head. “It’s a risk. You want to contact Dean, right?”

Castiel nods. It’s been on his mind since he woke up, a burning need that’s sitting in his heart.

Madison tuts. “I have Sam’s email. I can email him. He’s in contact with Dean.”

 _No, he isn’t,_ comes to Castiel’s mind, but he nods. If Sam knows, then sooner or later, Dean will as well.

“Yes. I would appreciate that.”

Madison nods. “Elspeth stitched up your leg, and she’ll come in to show you how to take care of it, okay?”

Castiel nods, and Madison leaves. He’s only wearing a large shirt and a pair of underwear, so he looks at the bandage around his leg. There’s no blood on the bandage, but by the way that his leg is hurting, he wouldn’t be surprised if some leaked through soon. He gingerly sits down on the blanket he had been under. It takes the pressure off his leg, and he breathes a bit easier.

A woman with black hair and green eyes comes through the door. She smiles at him, and Castiel finds himself calming for no reason he can name.

“Hey, I’m Elspeth. I’m going to teach you how to take care of your leg and cuts, yeah?”

Castiel nods, but the entire time she’s showing him how to care for himself, he’s thinking about how soon he can get back to Dean.

~*~*~*~

Dean wakes when Sam moves. His brother is trying to be sneaky about it, but Dean sleeps through nothing anymore, and Sam had had one leg trapped under one of Dean’s. There was no chance he was getting out without waking Dean up.

“Yeah Jess, I’m awake,” Sam says quietly. His phone must have been on vibrate under his pillow.

“And I’m awake,” Dean grumbles.

“And Dean’s up,” Sam relays. There’s a pause. “Well I couldn’t help it. Yeah, I know.”

Sam leaves, and Dean’s grateful. Listening to one side of a conversation is always painful. He runs a hand through his hair, probably messing it up more than it is now. The clock on the bedside table says that it’s just after nine am, and Dean yawns widely, not bothering to cover it with a hand. He slowly stands and then stretches, popping his spine pleasantly. He wanders over to his room, where he’d dumped his stuff, and gets a new shirt. He tugs it on and then leaves his room, heading out to the main part of the restaurant.

The Roadhouse had never been a breakfast place. Lunch and dinner, sure, but nothing is served before eleven. That is because Ellen and Bill don’t want their house to be a full time business and have to be running off their feet every hour of the day, and also because they liked to sleep in a little after a night of drinking and staying up late.

Sam is in the main room, chatting quietly to Jess on the phone. Everything is too bright and Dean’s head feels both full of cotton and about to explode, so he rummages around in the small, non-industrial kitchen that Ellen and Bill use for some painkillers. He swallows them with a glass of water, standing in the darkest part of the kitchen.

He closes his eyes and leans against the counter, taking his time to wake up. He doesn’t particularly want to wake up though – waking up means facing the fact that Cas is still in Alastair’s hands. He groans and puts his head in his hands. He doesn’t want to think about it. Turning, he takes a bottle of scotch out of the cabinet and pours some into a glass to down. Then he tops it up again, ignoring his already pounding head from his hangover.

Sam comes in twenty minutes later. “Want me to make some food?” He offers, frowning at the glass in Dean’s hand.

“I’d rather not get food poisoning today, if that’s alright with you.”

“That was _one time_ Dean, get over yourself. I’m not that bad at cooking.”

“One time my ass,” Dean mutters. “I’ll just grab some cereal. You can do whatever you want.”

“Okay, I’ll probably just have some as well then,” Sam replies, going over to the cupboard and pulling out the different boxes. There’s some sort of health one that Dean tries hard not to focus on, and that Sam happily devours. Dean isn’t sure if he’s up for food yet, but there’s a box of Fruitloops that he’s sure hasn’t been touched since he was here last, so he’ll see if they’re still alright.

Sam pours them into a bowl for him without even having to be asked. “What did Jess have to say?” Dean asks him.

“She was just checking up on me. She wanted to know how you were doing as well. You freaked us both out when we saw that video on the news.”

“It freaked _me_ out when I saw the video,” Dean mumbles as he sits down in front of the bowl Sam had poured, putting some milk in there.

“I gave her the condensed version of what’s going on. She panicked when I finished, and I’m fairly certain that she’s cashing in all of her leave to stay at home with Alicia and not leave the protection of the wards.”

“Smart lady,” Dean comments. Sam nods.

“She is.”

“Where’s your laptop?” Dean asks. It’s rare to see Sam without it.

Sam grimaces. “I left it at home. I’m going to ask Ellen for permission to use her computer to check my emails.”

“How are you going to survive?” Dean asks, mock concern in his voice. Sam frowns at him.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t live on it.”

Dean scratches his nose and doesn’t answer.

“I don’t!”

“Whatever you say Sammy,” Dean replies easily, leaning back in the chair.

“What’s Sam saying?” Ellen asks as she walks through the door.

“That he doesn’t need his laptop to live.”

Ellen snorts before glancing over to Dean. “You shouldn’t be drinking this early Dean,” she reproaches.

“Sorry,” Dean mutters, putting the glass down.

“Can I borrow your laptop?” Sam asks.

Ellen sighs loudly. “Well if you have to…”

“I just want to check if anything’s come through for work.”

“Fine, fine. You know where it is.”

“Thanks,” Sam says, brightening. He walks off towards the study, leaving Dean and Ellen alone in the kitchen.

Dean looks at the floor and swallows another mouthful from the glass next to him.

“I was serious about what I said boy,” Ellen criticises. She takes the glass out of his hand and stoppers the bottle, putting it back in the cabinet. She sighs. “What did I tell you about going to work for the government?”

“That it would end badly,” Dean mutters, looking at the ground. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

“I actually said ‘This is going to end in some real deep shit.’ You don’t have to mince words with me Dean. That’s where we are.”

“We?” Dean asks quietly, looking up.

“Of course. You think we’re just going to abandon you because the government’s decided they want to haul you in? Don’t be ridiculous. I just hope you know what’s going on with your angel.”

Dean scrunches up his forehead. “What do you mean?”

The side of Ellen’s mouth twitches up. “When I met him for the first time a few months ago, I thought he was stuck up, snobbish, and slightly rude without meaning to be. But I also saw how he valued every one of the people in my place, no matter what they looked like or what they did. I respect that. He might have changed since then, but I saw something in him when you brought him round Dean. And I think that he could be good for you. Time will tell.”

And with that, she breezes out of the room, probably going to get ready for lunch. Dean can hear the first few employees arriving already. He looks at the glass that Ellen had left behind, still half full. Then he goes to find Sam, leaving the glass behind him.

Sam’s sitting in the same booth they had occupied last night. Ellen’s laptop is on the table in front of him, and Dean rolls his eyes at it. He sits opposite his brother, watching the staff begin to prepare for the customers that would be coming in soon.

“So are you and Cas serious?” Sam asks suddenly. Dean whips his head around to look at his brother.

“What?” He asks, mouth turning dry.

“Come on,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. “I saw how you acted around him even before that video went viral with you two making out in it. I just want to know if this is going to be a permanent thing.”

Dean refuses to acknowledge the blush that’s coming over his cheeks. “I don’t know Sammy. I can’t speak for him.”

“But you can speak for yourself,” Sam continues his sentence, looking up from the computer to stare at Dean. “So, not concerning him at all, is it serious on your end?”

Dean stares at his brother silently. Sam patiently looks back at him, not letting up. Dean finally shrugs and looks off to the side. “I don’t know. It’s… new.”

Sam Looks at him, and Dean hates it. “Really. That’s your answer?”

“It doesn’t concern you,” Dean says testily.

“It kind of does. I mean, Cas has spent some time with Jess and I after you introduced us. Alicia loves him. We’re friends, and I don’t want him to get hurt. I don’t want you to get hurt either, but it’s not him that I’m worried will screw your thing up.”

“Wait, _what_?” Dean asks, thrown off balance. “Cas _visits_ you?”

Sam shrugs. “Sometimes. He talks to Jess mostly. She helped him hash out some of his feelings for you after you kissed him and after you made up. She’s good like that.”

Dean doesn’t have a reply to anything that Sam is saying. “He didn’t tell me,” he says eventually.

“I can tell,” Sam says, leaning back against the booth. “That doesn’t really matter. What matters, are you serious about Cas?”

Dean leans back as well, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Yes,” he bites out finally. “I am very serious about him Sam.”

Sam nods. “Good. That’s good. Because I’m pretty sure that after all he’s done for you, he’s pretty gone on you as well.”

Dean bites his tongue and looks at the other people in the room moving around.

“So, ah, how far have you two… you know,” Sam says, raising his eyebrows.

Dean stares at his brother, aghast. “Sam!” Dean hisses. “We’re _not_ talking about that!”

“So not far,” Sam muses. “You know, you shouldn’t freak out about it. It’s just Cas.”

“Shut up. I’m _not_ freaking out about it. And you don’t know anything,” Dean growls, looking down at his hands. There’s a pause, while Dean stares moodily at his hands, trying not to think of Cas or Sam or anything. Sam uses the time to click around on his emails.

Okay. So _maybe_ he had been taking things with Cas slowly. But Cas is new to everything! He doesn’t need Dean pressuring him for anything. Dean plays with the silver ring on his finger, twisting it around his finger. Yeah. That was it. It wasn’t because he has issues, or anything.

He scowls, flicking his eyes up to look at Sam for a second. Damn him. Making him question things about him and Cas. He sighs silently. Okay, so maybe, he has some issues. He just wants to ease into things, for both their sakes. Dean doesn’t want to freak Cas out and _he_ doesn’t want to freak out when they do anything.

“Hey,” Sam says. Dean looks up from his hands.

“What is it?”

“This is weird,” Sam frowns, tilting his head to the side.

“What is?” Dean asks impatiently.

“I’ve got some sort of spam email. But I’ve got great filters on here; nothing usually gets through.”

“What’s in the email?” Dean asks.

“Just a number. Probably a phone number.”

Dean is suddenly gripped by something hopeful and cold at the same time. “Call it.”

“What?” Sam looks up at him. “Why?”

“Just call it,” Dean says, not knowing why, but knowing that it was important.

“No, it’s probably some weird thing to get my phone number on their record.”

“Then give it to me, and I’ll call it,” Dean says, grabbing the computer and twisting it around to look at the screen.

“Hey!” Sam exclaims. He takes the computer back, but Dean’s already memorised the number. He pulls out his phone from his pocket and dials it, ignoring Sam’s scowl.

It rings and rings, and just as Dean’s about to give up, the line connects. “Hello?” He says warily, standing up to go somewhere quiet so that he can hear the other person on the line.

“Dean,” a female voice replies it takes Dean a moment to place it, and when he does he shifts on his feet uneasily, hearing the door close after Sam comes into the small kitchen.

“Madison.”

“Sam got my email then.”

“Yeah, he did. You have a reason for getting in contact?”

“I do have something of yours that you might want back,” Madison says. “He’s clamouring to be put on, here, have him.”

“Dean,” Cas says, and Dean braces a hand on the counter to steady him.

“Cas,” Dean replies shakily. “How…?”

“I escaped from Alastair, and Madison found me. She helped me get away and hide. It’s unlikely I would have escaped by myself.”

Dean closes his eyes. There’s a rush of relief filling him, and he can almost ignore Sam’s hurried questions beside him.

“Where are you?” Dean asks.

“Madison will work out all the details with you. She’s reluctant to reveal to me where her safe house is.” There’s a pause, and Dean thinks of a thousand things to say. _I missed you. I need you. I was worried sick. I dreamed about you. I need you here, with me, right this second. Your voice isn’t enough. I need to feel your skin and hear your voice next to me, not over the phone._

Instead, all he says is, “Then put her back on. We need to work out where we’re meeting as soon as possible.” _I need you with me again as soon as possible._

“Okay Dean. I will see you soon, hopefully,” Cas closes the conversation with.

And Dean feels the ashes of what he could have said laying at the back of his throat the entire time he discusses details with Madison.


	15. Team Free Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean pick up Cas from Madison, and gather back at the Roadhouse to discuss what's happening next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, my favourite part of any fic is just beginning... 
> 
> (I'm sorry Sam. But you knowing more than you would want to about Dean and Cas' relationship will always be my favourite thing.)

Dean slams the door of the Impala, looking around for anyone at the meeting point. Sam gets out and closes the door less loudly. Dean impatiently checks his watch. “They said now. Where are they?” He peers around, trying to spot the reason that they’re standing in the darkened parking lot.

“They’ll be here soon,” Sam reassures him. Dean grunts back in response, leaning up against the Impala’s side. His eyes are scratchy and heavy, he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep since Cas was abducted, and he needs to lay his eyes on his angel already.

It’s another twenty minutes before there’s any movement. Dean flicks his eyes up to the moon, but it’s not full. He nervously taps his toe on the ground, before a movement in the bushes catches his attention. There’s a dark russet wolf standing just behind the tree line, watching them with lambent blue eyes. Dean’s hand nearly goes to his gun, tucked into the back of his jeans, but he grits his teeth and doesn’t move.

Another few minutes pass, and several other wolves appear, as well as a few humans. Dean automatically takes a few steps backwards to have Sam’s back against his. Sam meets him halfway, and Dean lets out a small sigh of relief. He’d forgotten what it feels like to have someone at your back who you’ve hunted with for years, who you know can defend themselves and can have your back. Everyone at Phoenix had been fine, but Sam is his _brother_ , someone who understands _him_. He hadn’t clicked with anyone like Sam until Cas had come along, and they’re still working on their relationship. He knows where he stands with Sam.

Dean relaxes marginally when he spots Madison. The female werewolf is human, wearing a dark green shirt and black jeans. Several more humans come out of the deep forest behind her, and Dean tries not to run to Cas when he sees the angel. He’s wearing jeans and a shirt that are obviously too big for his lithe frame, and Dean surmises that he had to borrow clothes off one of the wolves.

“Dean,” Madison calls out. Dean nods sharply, his eyes not leaving Cas. The angel is looking at him as well, his customary blank face in place. Dean feels a jab of fear, because being with Alastair _changes_ you, and Cas had had more time with him than anyone deserves.

“Madison,” he greets the werewolf. Cas picks his way out of the forest and across the car park towards them, obviously favouring one leg. Dean feels his hands clench at the sight, but forces his face to remain blank as Cas approaches. “Thank you for helping Cas.”

“We expect it to be remembered,” Madison tells him.

“It will be,” Dean replies. The werewolves all disappear from sight, but Dean is sure that they’re still there, watching to see what will happen next.

Dean doesn’t wait for Cas to come to him. He strides briskly towards the rather worn looking angel, stopping a pace in front of him.

“Cas,” Dean says shakily. Cas nods shallowly and Dean welcomes him when Cas takes a step forward and wraps his arms around him. Dean buries his face in Cas’s hair, breathing the smell of him in and cherishing the feeling of the angel in his arms. Cas leans on him, taking the weight off his leg, and Dean welcomes that as well, more than willing to be something for Cas to support himself on.

Sam clears his throat in the background and Dean slowly pulls back. “We’ve got somewhere safe to go to. We can talk there,” he murmurs quietly to the angel.

Cas nods and doesn’t refuse the arm Dean puts around him to take some of his weight. He looks _tired_ , and Dean’s worry steps up a notch. Cas never looks tired unless something’s wrong.

Dean opens the back and Cas sits down, leaning against the seat and closing his eyes. “Sam,” Dean says, getting his brother’s attention.

“Yeah?”

“You drive,” Dean instructs, throwing him the keys and sliding in next to Cas.

The angel looks at him gratefully as Sam accepts the keys and gets in the driver’s side after casting a worried look at them both.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks softly, after they’ve been driving for ten minutes. Cas’s head is resting on his shoulder, but at his words, the angel looks up at him.

“I am…” He shakes his head. “I am not severely injured. I will heal.”

Dean waits but nothing else comes. “And how are you feeling?”

Cas looks away from him. “I will be fine Dean,” he replies, and even though the words are a dismissal, Dean can tell that he’s grateful for the concern.

Dean tightens his hold on him slightly as Sam drives them towards the motel they had already booked and warded.

When they get there after nearly an hour’s drive, it’s nearly three in the morning. Cas had spent half the ride dozing on Dean’s shoulder and half being jolted back into awareness when they had gone over a bump in the road. Dean’s anxiety about the situation is rising, but he forces himself to be patient. Cas will explain everything when they get somewhere safe where they can listen to him fully.

That doesn’t mean he lets go of him though.

Sam pulls up and Dean dips his head to look at Cas, who is fast asleep. “Cas,” he murmurs as Sam gets out and opens the boot, taking everything they would need out of it. “Cas, wake up.”

Cas tenses before he opens his eyes. He looks around the Impala before looking up at Dean. “We are here,” he says, and Dean nods.

“Yeah. Sam booked this hotel so that no one would recognise me, and at this time in the morning, no one’s going to be outside. It’s safe.”

Cas follows him, getting out of the car and going past the teen at the desk to the corner room on the first floor. Sam follows Dean in after him, and Cas rubs his arms, looking small as he surveys the room. Dean walks over to him to lightly touch his hand to Cas’s elbow, not ready to stop touching him yet. Cas leans into it, and Dean fights the urge to wrap his arms around him again. Cas yawns, and Dean looks up at Sam.

“We can talk in the morning,” Sam agrees.

“You fine with that, Cas?” Dean asks. Cas is waking up, but he doesn’t look fully aware of his surroundings yet.

“It would probably be best if we talked now,” Cas says, voice rasping over the words.

“We don’t have to.”

“You need to know,” Cas assures them.

“Okay,” Sam says, sitting down. “Tell us what happened.”

Cas shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Dean, what did you do after Alastair took me?”

Dean sighs quietly. He sits down on the couch opposite where Sam is, and Cas sits down next to him. The angel immediately presses up next to him, and Dean only hesitates for a moment before hooking an arm around him, glancing at Sam briefly.

“I looked for you for a while, and killed the one demon that I hadn’t already. Its phone buzzed and I picked it up. It was Alastair, and he said that he had you and that if I wanted you to stay alive I would do what he says.” Dean tightens his arm slightly, and Cas edges closer. “After he hung up I called Sam and he flew down here right away. We met up at the airport and then went to the Roadhouse, and I explained everything to Sam, who told it all to Ellen and Bill. Ellen’s probably told Bobby as well by now. We decided that as soon as Alastair told us anything about a location, we would get all of the hunters that we could and ambush him there to try and rescue you. But Madison called, and told us that you were with her, so we came as soon as we could to pick you up.”

Cas isn’t looking up at him, merely picking at a thread in his loose jeans. “My experiences were slightly more violent,” he admits. “I woke up in a cell. There was a binding that prevented me from leaving, even though Alastair’s spell had already ripped my Grace from me.” Cas rubs his arms and Dean leans against him.

“So you didn’t get yours back?” Dean asks, not knowing what answer he wants. He knows that Cas would probably be confused and anxious and troubled if the loss of Grace is permanent, but if it is, then Cas _would be human._ It would solve a lot of the problems that the future would have held for them, but Dean can’t let himself hope for it, feeling shitty for even thinking that way about it.

Cas slowly shakes his head. “My siblings would have had theirs returned to them because it was not a completely effective spell. But my Grace was already distant from me, my links to it already wavering. It did not take much to sever them all together.” Cas shudders slightly and buries his head in Dean’s neck. Dean strokes his thumb over skin and doesn’t try any platitudes on the angel. Cas wouldn’t appreciate them. He looks over to Sam to see distress in his brother’s eyes, and neither of them pressure Cas to continue before he’s ready.

“Everything is so different,” Cas murmurs, and Dean isn’t sure that Sam could have heard that, so he just lays a kiss on his head in an attempt to comfort him.

Cas continues on a few minutes later, his head resting on Dean’s shoulder. “A demon took me from the cell to talk to Alastair. The demon talked to me for a while, telling me that he had contacted you and that you were going to obey him for as long as he had me. I decided that I had to escape then.” Cas pauses before he goes on, looking at the ground. Dean moves his hand to touch Cas’s lightly and then to gently twine their fingers together.

Cas looks down at their hands and continues talking. “He had made the mistake of bringing my own blade in to interrogate me with. He thought that because I had lost my Grace I was helpless.” Cas grins for a moment, something harsh and unforgiving. “He thought wrong. He took no precautions while transporting me to where he would start torturing me, and when I ripped my hair out of his grasp he pinned me up on the wall and started cutting me up there.” Cas absently touches his chest and Dean can almost imagine the healing cuts on it. “When I refused to answer anything about Raziel’s Sword he stabbed my thigh and let me sink to the ground. I let him believe I was insensate with pain, before taking the blade out of my leg and disemboweling him.”

“Shit,” Dean murmurs.

Sam shakes his head and is more vocal about his admiration. “I… That’s seriously hard core Cas. I can’t believe that anyone could do that.”

Cas shrugs. “The hardest part was convincing him that I was helpless. After that I wondered through the maze until I found the exit. I ran up the stairs to the entrance –”

“With a stab wound in your thigh?” Sam asks, appalled. Dean has much of the same thoughts, and is looking at Cas worriedly.

“Yes. I killed the demons guarding the entrance, but only made it a few hundred metres into the forest before collapsing because of blood loss. That was where Madison found me, and she brought me back to her safe house after smelling your scent on me.”

“What?” Dean asks, surprised.

Cas shrugs. “She simply said that I smelled like you, and from that she knew that we are a couple.”

Dean feels his face heating up slightly and he ducks his head to avoid Sam’s smile.

“And then we picked you up,” Dean continued for him.

“After Elspeth sewed my wounds up and instructed me on how to care for them,” Cas says. “But yes.”

“It was a pretty insane few days,” Dean mutters. He stands up and goes over to the small kitchenette in the room, pouring a glass of water for Cas. The angel stands and meets him half way across the room, and Dean takes a step towards Sam as he returns to where they had been sitting. Dean looks at Sam, and Sam rolls his eyes slightly.

“I left my stuff in the car,” Sam says. “I’m going to go grab it, and then I think it’d be good for everyone if we all got a good night’s sleep.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. Sam nods and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Dean hardly waits until he’s closed the door before he rounds on Cas. The angel looks up at him calmly, and Dean can’t help the need to touch Cas that rushes over him. Cas puts the glass of water down on the table, as if he knows what Dean’s thinking.

He crosses the room to Cas, grabbing the angel’s shoulders and pulling him to him, pressing their mouths together fiercely, wanting to know that Cas is safe and _here._ Cas lets out a soft sound and immediately kisses him back.

Dean’s hands immediately move, clutching Cas and not letting him go. The angel gasps into his mouth, and Dean revels in the taste of Cas’s air. Cas’s arms encircle him, one hand knotting in his hair and the other gripping his shirt tightly. Dean slides his hands under Cas’s shirt, needing to feel skin, needing to feel _Cas_ , needing to know that he’s okay, needing to know that he’s safe. The angel is warm and lax under his hands, and Dean pauses for a moment to get used to the difference. Cas used to be cold and hard, but now that he had lost his Grace, things are different.

Cas is breathing heavily, eyes searching Dean’s face. Dean doesn’t break eye contact as he tilts his head and touches their lips together again. Cas shivers, his back curving slightly as Dean pushes his hand up higher, feeling all of the skin that he can.

“I was worried,” Dean admits softly, hand moving to Cas’s front to press over his breastbone. The steady thud-thud of Cas’s heart reassures him. “Scared.”

Cas closes his eyes. “As soon as I got out, as soon as I woke up with Madison, all I thought about was getting back to you.”

Dean doesn’t want to think about what happened to Cas. Alastair had had him. Had known who he was. Involuntarily, his arms tighten on Cas.

“You’re safe now,” Dean promises. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Cas repeats lowly, nodding. “I’m here.”

Dean kisses him again. It’s slower this time, but different than before. Going somewhere. Dean’s hands grip Cas’s shirt and he pulls it up over his head, breaking away from Cas for a moment to throw the shirt on the floor. Pleased with all the skin he can now touch, Dean’s hands roam, tracing the contours of Cas’s flesh. He touches the healing cuts gently, making sure not to disturb the scabs. The angel’s hands are too tight where they grip Dean, but Dean doesn’t mind, wanting the two of them to be connected, for them to be together, with nothing being able to separate them. Or at least nothing that won’t bring them closer together, Dean muses to himself, as Cas’s hands go to his shirt and they separate so Cas can pull it off.

Dean groans as their skin touches, and his lips go to Cas’s jaw, nipping along the skin there as Cas touches him lightly. Dean encourages him to be firmer, letting Cas do what he wants to try and have the angel become more confident. Cas gradually becomes assured in himself, and Dean welcomes the stronger touches against him. He backs Cas up and pushes him against the wall, savouring the startled gasp the angel lets out. He stops sucking a hickey onto Cas’s neck and returns to his lips, and feels the air between them heat up. Every place that Cas touches sets him on fire, and he moans when Cas’s hand finds his hair again.

He grabs Cas’s hips and grinds up against him, and _that’s_ what he’s talking about, his cock twitching in his pants, Cas letting out a startled whine, hands scrabbling for purchase on Dean’s skin. Dean fights down a smile as their kisses deepen, and his hands slowly move from Cas’s hips to grip his ass, _fuck yes_ that feels good, giving him leverage when he rubs up against Cas again, wringing another groan from the angel –

“Oh my god,” Sam near shrieks, and Dean hadn’t even heard the door open. He reluctantly lets Cas’s mouth go, leaving the angel panting, eyes closed and head leaning back against the wall. He turns his head and gives Sam a glare, trying to ignore the involuntary movements of Cas’s hips against his.

“What?” Dean grinds out, not letting Cas go. Sam is still standing there, looking at the ceiling or at the floor, but not at either of the people in the room.

“I… I’ll get another room,” Sam mutters.

“Yeah,” Dean comments. “You do that. We’ll see you in the morning.” Sam nods stiffly.

“Good night Sam,” Cas says breathily. Sam swallows.

“Good night Cas.”

Dean looks at him flatly until Sam shuts the door. Then he turns back to Cas, who is looking at him with his eyes open. Dean feels a rush of gratitude towards Sam, as dorky and interrupting as he is. Cas has only just been introduced to humanity, and he spent the last few days recovering from his ordeal with Alastair. He’s under enough stress without having to worry about his relationship with Dean as well.

So he kisses him lightly one more time before disentangling them. Cas blinks a few times, still breathing heavier than normal. Dean smiles at him.

“Well, at least we won’t have to put up with him tonight. Although tomorrow he’ll probably bitch at us for making him spend more money on another room.” Dean rolls his eyes. “I’ll deal with him.”

Cas nods. “Your brother was not… comfortable seeing us like that,” he comments, after a few seconds have passed.

Dean shrugs. “He’s my brother. He wants to think of me as his brother, not… He doesn’t want to think about me sleeping with anyone. Especially someone he knows and interacts with and who we’re not going to leave behind in a week.”

“So humans socially do not speak about the people they have sex with?” Cas asks, tilting his head slightly. “I thought it was something that is spoken about often.”

Dean tries not to link the thoughts of ‘Cas’ and ‘sex.’ Especially after they had just made out against a wall for five minutes. And they’re in a motel room. And Sam isn’t coming back. He clears his throat before answering.

“Most people aren’t comfortable seeing or thinking about people they know in a sexual way Cas. It’s something private, usually. They wouldn’t want anyone watching them, so they extend that to other people. Of course, some people are assholes, but we’re just talking about Sam. He doesn’t want to think about us… sleeping with each other.”

Cas narrows his eyes thoughtfully. “Because you are his brother and he is my friend.”

Dean nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. He doesn’t really want to think about what we get up to.” He’s looking at the carpet, because if he looks at Cas then he won’t be able to resist going over and kissing him again. And he doesn’t have to self-control to stop again.

“Does this apply to ‘Public Displays of Affection,’ or PDA, to use the colloquial term?”

Dean, against his better judgement, looks up. “Where on earth did you learn about those?”

Cas shrugs. “I have been observing the earth for many centuries. I investigate some things that I heard.”

And instead of learning about what is socially acceptable he had looked up what PDA was in his angelic Google. Dean doesn’t know whether to laugh or sigh.

“So does it?” Cas asks.

“Well, Sam would probably be fine with most stuff. He’s a pretty great guy. But some other people might not take it as well. Particularly since we’re in the south. Up north it’s better.” Dean scratches his head.

“Because you are male and I have a male vessel,” Cas comments, and Dean is glad that he doesn’t have to explain that. He shrugs unhappily.

“Yeah. Some people are dicks.”

Cas nods sagely at that. “Very well.”

“Lemme see your leg,” Dean says after the silence hangs between them for a few seconds. Cas nods, and unashamedly takes his oversized jeans off, which nearly makes Dean choke. He sobers when he sees the bandage though, stained red from where some blood had leaked through.

“Sit down,” he directs. Cas does, and Dean tries to ignore the muscled thighs under his hands as he takes a closer look at the injury. The bandage is done up well, which Dean thinks is good. “There any stitches here?”

Cas nods. “Yes. Elspeth told me how to care for it.”

“That’s good. They the fancy type that don’t need to be removed?”

Cas nods again. “She says it should be healed in a few weeks. I think it will be healed sooner though.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

Cas shrugs. “My Grace is gone, but it is not gone.”

Dean tilts his head. “What?”

Cas purses his mouth. “I cannot explain it. It is gone, but it is still here. But there is nothing left to it. But I am not a human – not completely. And I suspect that I will heal faster than a normal human.”

Dean’s forehead is scrunched up. “So you’re Graceless but not really?”

Cas rubs his hands over his face. “I suppose so.”

Dean sighs. He’s too tired to try and figure this out. “Let’s just get some sleep.”

“I would like that,” Cas says. Dean takes his boots off and gets everything he needs to brush his teeth. He finds a spare toothbrush in his bag, and after defending how hygienic it is to Cas, he gets the angel to brush his teeth as well. Then he strips off his unnecessary layers and crawls under the covers, waiting for Cas to get out of the bathroom.

When the angel joins him in the dark of the room, Cas shyly curls up next him, and Dean doesn’t resist the urge to kiss him. Cas lets out a small, happy sound when he does, and Dean pulls him closer. He makes sure that Cas is securely in his arms, the angel returning the favour by having Dean in a near vice-like grip. Dean doesn’t mind it, as long as it means that Cas isn’t going anywhere.

Cas is _here_. Cas is _safe_ , with them. Alastair doesn’t have him.

Those thoughts, as well as having Cas slowly slipping off to sleep beside him, make it possible for Dean to consider closing his eyes.

~*~*~*~

Dean wakes up before Cas does the next morning. He checks the time and decides that it’s too early to be up yet. But he doesn’t try to go back to sleep, soaking in Cas’ presence and savouring the fact that he is _here._

He hadn’t woken up last night. That’s probably why he was so rested. Something about Cas calms him in his sleep, makes it easier to avoid the nightmares that plague him. Sam would probably already be up, but Dean doesn’t think that his brother is going to knock on their door after what he walked in on last night. Dean sighs silently at the thought, but Sam had already known that he and Cas are together, so he could deal with it. Dean isn’t going to hinder his relationship with Cas because his brother can’t deal with the fact that Dean is dating someone that he knows. Sam hadn’t really been giving off that vibe though, so Dean dismisses the thought. He had probably just not been expecting that when he walked back into the room. That sounds more accurate to Dean, and he yawns, trying not to move too much. Cas has their legs twined together and not an inch of space in between them, and Dean doesn’t mind it one bit. The heat of summer is beginning to fade, and they’re in the between months when winter is getting closer, but isn’t here just yet.

Cas’s head is tucked up under his chin, and Dean absently blows a piece of hair away from where it had been tickling his face. Check out isn’t until ten, so they have just over an hour to get out of here, and Dean wants to give Cas as much time to sleep as he could. He isn’t used to dealing with things on the limited amount of sleep that Sam and Dean can cope with.

Even so, his need to use the bathroom is steadily increasing. He looks at Cas regretfully before trying to wriggle out of the angel’s grip. It takes ten minutes, but Dean is standing next to the bed with Cas still sleeping on it. While he’s in the bathroom he decides to take a shower, and quickly does that, coming out with a towel slung low around his hips and drying his hair off with another.

His eyes search out Cas and find him awake, still in bed, but definitely awake. There are slight dark circles under his eyes, but his gaze is sharp and alert.

“Good morning,” Dean says, after a second has passed of them staring at each other. He crosses to Cas and leans down, kissing him lightly for a few seconds. Cas presses up into it, and Dean slowly stands back up after parting with him, leaving Cas sitting there in bed.

“Do you want to take a bath? You can’t shower with stitches in your leg, but you should still get clean, and you can avoid getting it wet if you’re careful enough.” Cas tilts his head, but nods after a second.

“I should. Elspeth talked me through a few things when I told her that I was newly human. She said that most humans bath once a day, usually in the mornings.”

Dean lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “Yeah, I guess so. There’s another towel in there, so just use that, and just give me a yell if you need anything. I can run it if you want?”

“I can do it,” Cas replies, getting up and walking into the bathroom. Dean lets out a breath as the door closes, but Cas doesn’t lock it. Dean tells himself very firmly that that isn’t an invitation to join him, and finds some clothes to put on. He cleans up the room, checking everywhere to make sure that he hadn’t misplaced something, but they had only been here for a short time, and most of it had been them sleeping. He can still hear Cas splashing around by the time he’s finished, and Dean narrows his eyes at the bathroom door. The angel must just be taking his time.

Dean takes one look at the clothes that Cas had been wearing before throwing them in the bin. How Cas had been putting up with them he had no idea. Instead he picks out a shirt and some jeans from his own clothes that he thinks may fit the angel and goes to the bathroom door. There’s no more splashing, and Dean doesn’t need to open the door to see the steam coming out of the other room.

“Cas?” Dean asks, raising his voice slightly so that the angel can hear him. There’s a pause before Cas responds.

“Yes Dean?”

“I’ve got some clothes here if you want to wear them.”

There’s another pause and then the door opens. Dean is blinded for a moment by the steam that rolls out of the room, but then he blinks and Cas is standing there, buck naked and obviously waiting for Dean to hand over the clothes.

 _Control yourself Winchester._ “Here,” Dean says, and is rather proud of the way he doesn’t sound like he’s squeaking.

“Thank you,” Cas says, taking them and not bothering to close the door again. Dean forces himself to turn around and look out the window instead of staring at Cas’s ass while he got dressed.

“Check out’s soon. Sam is probably already ready to go.”

Cas makes an affirmative sound behind him, and Dean’s mind can’t come up with anything else to say while it’s listening to the slide of fabric over Cas’s skin.

Cas comes back into his plane of vision dressed, shoes in his hand. “You already packed everything?” He asks.

“Yeah. Put your shoes on, and we’ll be ready to go.”

Cas nods, and sits down to put his shoes on while Dean picks up the bag and looks around the room for the last time. Cas follows him as they walk down the hall and Dean gives the keys back to the woman at the front desk, who looks them over once before waving them outside.

Sam’s looking shitty when they walk out of the motel, but Dean doesn’t blame him after the way they basically kicked him out last night.

“You know anywhere around here that looks good for breakfast?” Dean asks, hoping that by letting Sam choose the place that they would eat, it would lessen his annoyance. He sees the acceptance of the apology in Sam’s eyes as he responds.

“There’s a diner on the corner that looked okay,” Sam suggests, and Dean nods, not having any problems with that. The all get into the Impala and roll out of the parking lot, finding parking easily in the small town. Inside the diner, a waitress smiles at them as she seats them in a small booth, Cas sliding in opposite Dean, next to Sam.

Sam immediately picks out some healthy salad crap that he’s into, and Dean asks for the bacon and egg special. Cas echoes him, but Sam stops the waitress before she can walk away.

“You don’t have to follow Dean you know,” he says. “Try something else.”

Dean shrugs when Cas looks at him, so Cas looks at the menu, brow furrowed.

“How about some yoghurt with mixed berries and muesli?” Sam points to something on the menu.

Dean grimaces. “Don’t have him eat that crap,” he admonishes.

“It’s not ‘crap,’ Dean. Cas should try everything before he can decide what he likes most. Give him a chance.” Sam turns his puppy eyes on Cas, and Dean doesn’t blame him for wavering in the face of that.

“Fine. Cas, have some healthy stuff. Then we can both laugh in Sam’s face while we eat real food. Add three coffees to that, one black, two white.”

The waitress jots something down on her pad and walks off. Sam snorts at him and opens his laptop, somehow getting Wi-Fi on it. Dean sometimes thinks that there’s some sort of spell in place that allows Sam to get Wi-Fi anywhere, since his brother never has any trouble with it.

“So,” Sam starts, eyes scanning his computer. “What’s next? What are we doing?”

“We must find Raziel’s Sword before Heaven or Hell can locate it,” Cas says lowly. “It is becoming close to the date when it will be found.” Cas shakes his head slowly. “Over a hundred years of searching – everyone is getting close. The Sword cannot be allowed to fall into Hell’s grasp. They would use it to march on Heaven, and then take over earth. Heaven would use the Sword to restore the balance between the two, but then they would be the winner in any conflict, as it has been for eons.” Cas furrows his forehead. “It is better that they be equal in strength. I have seen it even the balance not just between Heaven and Hell, but between all creatures in existence.”

“You don’t want Heaven to win easily?” Dean asks, surprised.

“It would be better if they had to work for their victories instead of simply being handed to them. It produces laxness, and that is why we lost Raziel and Gabriel in the first place. Only Father knows what could happen if the demons are successful in infiltrating Heaven again.”

The waitress comes back with their coffee, and Sam starts gulping his down. Cas sips his carefully, while Dean drinks his black, like always.

“Makes sense,” Dean says. “So then what are we going to do next? It’s the demon’s turn to search, right?”

Cas nods. “Yes. I do not know where they will complete it, so we cannot eavesdrop on the ritual. And I do not know the next ritual that Heaven were to prepare, so we cannot complete that one.”

“So we’ve got the information that we have now, and nothing else?” Sam asks worriedly.

“Yes,” Cas answers.

The waitress gives Sam his salad and Cas his yoghurt. Sam eagerly digs in while Cas cautiously dips his spoon into the yoghurt and tastes it. He’s always like this the first time that he tastes anything, and Dean sees the customary widening of his eyes and keen licking of the spoon that signals that he likes something. Dean sighs and rolls his eyes as Cas tells Sam that he likes it. It was inevitable that Cas would side with Sam on some things, he thinks to himself, ignoring Sam’s triumphant look.

“We need somewhere where we can organise ourselves,” Cas says, frowning at the table. He looks up at Dean, meeting his eyes. Dean can see anxiety rolling around in them, and reaches across the table to touch his hand for a second. Cas takes a deep breath and nods slightly.

“We could head back to the Roadhouse,” Sam says. “Ellen might skin us if we leave her out of this.”

Dean smiles. “True. And I have a feeling that we’re going to need all of the help that we can get.” Cas nods solemnly, while Sam runs a hand through his long hair. “We might not have superpowers, Cas, but we have our own family, and we can handle ourselves just fine.”

Sam snorts and Cas tilts his head. “So it’s decided then?” Sam asks, looking between the two of them. Dean and Cas nod, and Sam scoops up some more of his salad. They continue eating their breakfast, Sam scanning his computer while he does so.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Cas tells Dean, obviously not talking to Sam. There’s no way that Sam wouldn’t be able to hear it though, so Dean assumes that it’s something that the angel wouldn’t mind him hearing.

“Yeah?” Dean asks.

“I would like to have sexual intercourse with you,” Cas says normally, as if they are talking about the weather.

Dean and Sam simultaneously choke on their coffee.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Sam says, closing his laptop, getting up and near running away. Dean spends a minute trying to get all of the coffee out of his lungs. Cas looks at Sam’s retreating back with concern, and then turns his gaze on Dean.

“You…” Dean can feel his mouth hanging open. “You can’t just come out and _say_ that, Cas.” He splutters. “ _Especially_ not in front of other people.” Especially not in front of _Sam_ , some part of him is screeching, but he ignores it.

Cas frowns. “Why not?” He asks. “I ask you about other things, and we discuss them. I wish to discuss this with you.”

Dean stares at the angel for a second before giving up. Cas isn’t aware of the social niceties that surround this issue, and Dean doesn’t particularly feel like educating the angel in them. Besides, this is very _Cas_ , and they were going to have this conversation eventually, so why not have it now?

“Look, remember what I told you about last night? That includes talking about us,” Dean gestures between them, “In any way that Sam would be uncomfortable with, okay?”

Cas frowns. “Very well. I will not bring it up again. But I still want to talk about it.”

“Okay, Cas,” Dean says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Since you started this, you can talk first.” He can talk while Dean gathers his thoughts about the issue, and tries to think up a way to apologise to Sam.

Cas nods. “Very well. I have been thinking about intercourse ever since we started our relationship. It is a way to express trust and intimacy, and I wish to share that with you, but I know that you were sexually abused both as a child and as an adult, so I was hesitant to bring up the issue. But you succeeded in making me want…” Cas hesitates for a second. “More, last night, when you stopped.”

Dean just blinks. He can’t even begin to think of a reply.

“I would have liked you to continue to do what you were doing, but I understood that we had not talked about such a step in our relationship. So I am rectifying that, by talking about it with you now.”

Dean takes a steadying breath before he replies. “Look Cas, it’s great you want more. But it doesn’t have to suddenly happen, you know? We can ease into things. And also,” he continues, gesturing at Cas. “What about your meat suit? Does he consent to having his body used like that?”

Cas frowns. “Jimmy? His soul was granted salvation in Heaven before I was taken in for re-education. It is considered cruel to put the vessel through what we go through while being retrained, so their soul is released from the body.”

Well. That was one problem solved, anyway. Dean had always been a bit weirded out by the thought that maybe there was someone else in there with Cas.

Sam is chatting with the cashier, not ordering, just talking. Dean looks at his weird salad breakfast food, and decides that his brother’s had enough of the stuff to not complain if they leave.

“Finish your food,” Dean instructs, and Cas does, for all the world looking as if they’re discussing something completely normal. Dean decides right there that he’s never going to get used to Cas’s quirks.

Cas obediently scoops up the rest of his yoghurt while Dean finishes his bacon and eggs. He throws some cash down on the table and Cas follows him over to where Sam is standing.

“Hey, time to go,” Dean says.

Sam looks at him with a Bitch FaceTM but Dean ignores it, brushing past his brother and trying to get onto a new topic so that he could focus on anything other than what he and Cas had been talking about.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Sam grumbles.

“Good,” Dean mumbles, leaving the diner and walking out towards the Impala is. “Come on,” he calls to the two other people who are with him. They walk over, one more willingly than the other, but both get into the car.

The trip to the Roadhouse doesn’t take too long, and they get there just as the staff are preparing to open the doors to the dinner customers. Bill is behind the counter, and he looks up at their entrance. Dean sees the relief that goes over his face

“Dean, Sam. Your task went smoothly, I assume?”

Dean gestures to Cas. “Yeah.”

“You’d better get in the back while we set up. When we open you can come sit out here.”

“Okay,” Sam says.

The three of them go through the door marked ‘Staff Only.’

“I’m gonna go shower. You guys hang around, and we’ll talk strategy after everyone leaves.”

Dean nods, and his brother leaves, walking down the hall towards the bathroom.

Dean turns to Cas. “Let me give you the tour,” Dean tells him. Cas nods.

“I would like that. To see where you grew up.”

Dean shrugs. “I didn’t really grow up here. Sam did more than me.”

“But it is still the first place that you really called home.”

Dean looks away from Cas, whose eyes are too knowing. “Yeah, maybe,” he agrees.

He leads Cas through the non-restaurant part of the building, showing him where the bathroom is and where the small kitchen is. He only takes him to the door of the industrial kitchen, where the kitchen staff are running around, fulfilling orders and cooking meals.

He shows Cas the backyard and the panic room, which has almost every defence against the supernatural known to the hunting community. Cas looks suitably impressed, and so is Dean, until he remarks that there’s nothing to stop angels from coming inside.

“You’re right,” Dean says, looking around the room. He takes his knife out of its sheathe and makes a cut on the back of his arm. Cas frowns at him, but Dean simply steps up to the wall and starts drawing the sigil against angels, copying the same glyph that he had drawn many times in his own apartment. He has to widen the cut a little to get all of the blood that he needs, but he feels the ward close around them with the slight change in air pressure.

He wipes the blood off on his jeans and rummages around in the draws until he comes up with a bandage. He starts to awkwardly try to tie it on himself, but Cas takes it from him, carefully putting some cotton on the wound before winding the bandage around it and fastening it.

“I do not like that you have to do that,” Cas says unhappily. Dean wraps his uninjured arm around the angel and kisses him softly, knowing what the angel is talking about.

“It’s fine Cas. I lived without your mojo before, I’m sure that I can cope now.”

Cas still looks worried. “But I cannot heal you now. What if –”

Dean kisses him again to stop the sentence. When he draws back Cas’s eyes are still anxious.

“I’m going to be fine Cas. I’m worried about you, though. This whole thing with your Grace…”

Cas’s eyes go soft. “I had already accepted the fact that I would Fall Dean. When I made the choice to stay with you, I knew that it would happen. Grace is jealous, and it wants to be the only thing inside my heart. But you took your place there without consulting me first. This,” Cas says, looking down at himself, “Just came sooner than I expected it to.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say, so he just leans down again. This kiss lasts longer than the ones before it, and Dean is sure that Ellen would be looking for them soon.

“I don’t know why you’ve done all this for me,” Dean whispers. He doesn’t understand why something as beautiful as Cas would want to associate with him, after all that he’s done.

Cas slides his hand up and settles it into the handprint on Dean’s shoulder. Dean shivers slightly as his awareness of Cas sharpens.

“You do not know how I see you. _I_ do not know why you have chosen me, Dean Winchester,” Cas says solemnly. “But I will strive to make you see all that is beautiful about yourself, as I am sure that you will strive to make me see everything you find lovely about me. We shall endeavour to make each other better. I promise you this.”

Dean squeezes Cas involuntarily. “Yeah Cas,” he says, clearing his throat after the two words. “I promise as well.”

It’s Cas that kisses him this time.

“There you are,” Ellen drawls. Dean reluctantly lifts his mouth from Cas’s to look at his foster-mother, not knowing how much time had passed. She’s looking at them with an eyebrow raised, and Dean reluctantly steps away from Cas. The angel looks at Ellen with his head tilted.

“Good evening Ellen,” Cas says.

“Good evening boys.”

“Hey Ellen,” Dean mutters, embarrassed to have been caught with Cas, like it was the first time he’d kissed someone or something.

“We had two waiters call in sick – could you fill in one? If you remember how to, that is,” she says, smirking.

“Of course,” Dean replies instantly. “Anything you need.”

“What have you done to my room?” Ellen asks sharply, finally realising there are new decorations.

“Angelic wards. To keep the halos out,” Dean explains.

“And what have you done to yourself?” Ellen asks, scowling at him.

Dean shrugs. “The wards need to be completed in human blood,” Cas clarifies.

“Well you can’t wait like that. It’s unsanitary.”

“Sorry,” Dean mumbles.

“But I still need another hand,” Ellen muses. She turns to Cas. “You feel like working for your stay?”

Cas blinks. “I have never done anything like his before,” he warns.

Ellen shrugs. “You can’t screw things up too badly. It’s just taking orders to the kitchen, and then taking them back to their table, essentially. I’ll get Jasmine to talk you through it in more detail.”

“Very well,” Cas says agreeably.

“You head down to the kitchen and ask for Jasmine. She knows that I was sending down somebody. Tell her that it’s you.”

Cas lingers for a moment, staring at Dean, before he leaves the room.

“Dean,” Ellen says casually, after Cas has been gone for a few seconds.

“Yeah?” Dean asks hesitantly, not liking her tone of voice.

“You’re washing your sheets before you leave.”

Ellen walks out of the room, and Dean is glad for it, because that means that she doesn’t see that his face is on fire.

He walks out to the main room to find Sam in their normal booth, clicking away on his computer. He turns around and gets some of his guns from his room. Sam looks up at him when he sits down with a glance at the guns in his hands before going back to his computer. The restaurant opens, and people start coming in for dinner. It isn’t long before there’s a near full house. Dean wonders if the Roadhouse is always this popular, or if this is an exception.

Dean flashes a smile at Cas as he whizzes past, three plates in his hands.

“He’s not doing too badly for his first time,” Sam comments.

“Yeah, not too bad,” Dean replies, wondering if some of Cas’s perfect angelic memory had stayed with him, because he isn’t carrying around a notepad, and he certainly hadn’t known the menu before tonight, and yet he is quoting it to several people sitting at a table near the entrance.

The dinner rush comes and goes, Sam doing who knows what on his computer while Dean carefully cleans the guns he has on the table in front of him. When that’s done he goes and puts them back in his room, and by the time he comes back most of the people who aren’t hunters have left. Dean orders his usual food off Cas, smiling at him the whole time.

Cas smiles at him in return before he leaves with their order. Dean watches him walk around the restaurant like he had been there for years, and when he comes out with their order, he’s carrying three plates.

Dean moves over for him, and Cas sits down after putting their food in front of them.

“Ellen said that I should have dinner with you, and that I did well for my first time.”

Sam nods. “That’s high praise from Ellen. She doesn’t give out compliments easily.”

They eat their food, Cas meticulously consuming every crumb on his plate while Dean talks with Sam about Jess and Alicia. Cas asks the occasional question before he and Sam start discussing the small things in Sam’s life, and Dean is left on the outside of their conversation, smiling at the two of them talking.

Ellen flushes out all of the patrons who aren’t hunters, but there are a smaller crowd of them than normal, and she’s able to get most of them out before one. Everyone spends another hour cleaning up before Ellen pulls out a map of the world and a few markers at Dean’s request.

“Okay. Castiel. You are going to tell me, in greater depth than what these two could manage, what exactly is going on.”

Cas starts an in depth break down of the events that led to Gabriel and Raziel disappearing from Heaven. Dean tunes it out, watching Cas explain it to his foster parents, Bill perching on the bar. Sam nods along to the explanation, probably appreciating the exact chain of events. He had only heard Dean’s garbled explanation after Cas had been kidnapped, and Cas had been talking for a few minutes and isn’t out of Heaven yet.

Cas picks up the permanent marker and starts drawing on the world map, putting the same markings that he did the first time he explained it to Dean on there, as well as the one that they just discovered, talking about that as he did so. Then he picks up the smaller map that is just America and marks the more precise locations there, including the degrees in which each direction is. Ellen and Bill look on, asking questions about the locations and why they were chosen, and which ones were the demons and which were the angels. Cas answers them all confidently, explanting the process that Heaven and Hell had gone through in far deeper detail than Dean had.

“I think that it is in this area,” Cas says, finishing talking and circling the border of Idaho and Utah, with more space in Idaho than Utah.

Everyone looks at the map for a while. “Is there anything supernaturally important in the area?” Sam asks. Cas picks up a different pen and draws lines on the map and waved and twirled for no apparent reason, going off into the ocean or into Canada or Mexico.

“Ley lines?” Dean asks. Cas nods.

“Yes. And these are significant sites, which either have a large amount of energy or where energy can be gathered.”

Cas marks several more dots on the map.

“I’ll go and print off a bigger version of that,” Bill says, pointing at the circled area. Cas doesn’t take his eyes off the map as the older man leaves, going into the back of the building.

“I have several ideas of possible locations, but really, I think that we needed one more spell to really narrow down where the Sword could have fallen.”

“Well that’s not happening, from what you’ve told us,” Ellen says.

“No,” Cas says quietly. “It is not.”

There’s silence as everyone stares at the map. “Is there anything we can do to narrow it down some more?” Dean asks, rather hopelessly.

“Not particularly. The Sword does not want to be found.”

“Will you know when either side finds it?” Sam asks.

“There will likely be a message sent through the celestial plane.”

“But can you still pick that up?”

Cas grimaces at the question. “Maybe. I do not know.”

“Do you know anywhere it could be?” Ellen asks.

Bill comes back in holding a large map of Utah, Idaho and Wyoming. Cas immediately copies the symbols from the larger map onto the smaller one, being more precise about the lines and where they run.

“I have several ideas,” Cas says, frowning at the map. “But I do not know if the Sword will be there.”

“I don’t think there’s anything else we can do,” Sam says. Dean stares at the map, looking it over.

“So we go and check out these sites? Cas, where are they?”

Cas starts marking several sites at Dean’s question. “There are four which I think could hold it. But I would have to be close, very close, in order to sense it.”

“How close?”

“Within two hundred metres.”

Dean sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly. “That’s going to be hard.”

Cas nods. “It’s why we didn’t just try to search for it. The spells help immensely.”

Ellen starts writing on the side of the map, general things about the sites and how they would be able to get to the locations that Cas had marked. Bill and Sam lean in as well and start commenting on Ellen’s notes.

“I would think that it would be unwise to investigate the sites,” Cas advises.

“Why?” Bill asks.

“If I think that they are possible sites, then it is very likely that either Heaven or Hell or both have a presence there. They will be searching for Dean, and the Host is searching for me. Any demon knows that Sam is Dean’s brother and both sides most likely know who you all are as well. If we wish to lead them right back here, then going to these sites is very good way to do so.”

There’s silence for a few seconds after Cas finishes talking. Dean looks at the map and the sites marked on it.

“It can be what we do when we have no other option,” Dean says. “Until then, we lay low, listen for anything that’s happening, and prepare for what’s next. We’re all in this together, right?”

Everyone around the table nods, and start discussing ways to approach the sites without being seen while exchanging their favourite way to kill a demon. Dean smiles at them, but is distracted but Cas yawning. Dean frowns for a second before leaning over and whispering in his ear. “They’ll talk for a while more, but you’re tired. Let’s go to sleep.”

Cas looks up at him for a second before looking back at the others, who are crowded around the map. He nods, and Dean smiles for a second.

“Cool. You go brush your teeth. I’ll just tell them we’re going to sleep.”

Cas heads off towards the bathroom, and Dean buts in on Sam’s sentence.

“Cas and I are going to bed. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Oh,” Ellen says, looking surprised. “It’s still pretty early.” She raises an eyebrow and Dean decides to ignore the thought that must be going through her mind.

Dean shrugs, going for nonchalance. “We’re tired. Good night.”

He’s met with a round of response ‘good nights,’ and Ellen’s smirk, and before he’s out of the room, they’re discussing everything again.

He brushes his teeth and then finds Cas standing in the doorway of his room.

“How did you know that this was mine?” Dean asks him, looking at the unassuming room.

Cas shrugs. “I did not know for sure. It simply felt right.” He drifts inside, and Dean shakes his head, knowing that he’s not going to get a better response than that. He closes the door after himself, and doesn’t bother turning the light on, knowing that the streetlamp from outside usually gave more than enough illumination.

He toes off his boots and throws his socks at them, putting them next to Cas’s shoes. The angel is looking out the window to where there are still a few cars in the cark park, even though it’s late.

Dean puts his hands on the windowsill either side of Cas and leans on him slightly, resting his head on the back of his neck. Cas moves his hands so they’re touching Dean’s.

They stand there for a few minutes before Dean kisses the back of his neck. Cas shivers slightly as Dean toys with the hem of his shirt for a few seconds before tugging it upwards. Cas lets it be stripped off him, sighing softly.

 _Hipbones this sharp should be illegal,_ Dean muses as he runs his thumbs over them. He’s been admiring Cas in his clothes all day. It made something possessive rise in him, seeing Cas walking around with them on. But he looks better without them, Dean decides, leaning down to nip at the side of Cas’s neck.

Cas rolls his head back and reaches up to twist a hand into Dean’s hair. Dean takes advantage of the long expanse of neck, and starts licking it, sucking on patches of skin at random.

“Dean,” Cas murmurs softly. Dean pauses for a second in his explorations to reply.

“Shh, Cas. Just go with it.”

Cas lets out a shaky breath as Dean’s thumbs hook under his jeans. Dean frowns, settling them in deeply, but still not finding anything.

“Didn’t you put on any underwear this morning?”

“You didn’t give me any,” Cas replies breathily. That stops Dean for a moment before he returns to licking at Cas’s skin, sucking on the bolt of his jaw. He takes a step forward, so that Cas is pinned. The angel lets out a small sound as Dean rolls his hips forward, rubbing his dick on Cas’s ass, and fuck, it feels good.

Cas wriggles around in his arms, and the logical thing to do is to kiss him, so Dean does. He’s been left with two handfuls of angelic butt, and he’s pleased with that as well. Cas tries to deepen the kiss, but Dean keeps it light, teasing him gently. Cas’s free hand travels down his back and then under his shirt, feeling all the skin that it can. Dean rolls his hips again and is rewarded with Cas stuttering slightly. He kisses him again, working Cas’s mouth open to lick at his tongue. Cas whines as the movements of Dean’s hips become a gentle back and forth, just teasing, nothing serious yet.

Cas stops kissing him and gasps in a breath before attacking Dean’s neck, licking and sucking frantically. Dean squeezes his ass in return and tilts his head back so that can get to more skin.

“You don’t have to rush it,” Dean advises softly. “Calm down.”

Cas looks up at him as Dean takes his shirt off. He narrows his eyes and slowly dips his head down to start lapping at Dean’s collarbone. Dean sighs softly at the attention, one hand rubbing up and down Cas’s back with the other gripping his hip for leverage as he rubs them together.

Dean lets out a quiet moan as Cas sucks on a particularly sensitive piece of skin, but he leans back before Cas can start leaving noticeable hickeys. Cas looks up at him, but Dean just drags him backwards in answer, feeling the edge of the bed hit the back of his knees. He lets himself topple backwards, Cas letting out a small grunt as he lands on top of Dean. Dean wriggles onto the bed and pulls Cas on top of him and searches out his mouth.

Cas kisses him before going back to his chest, reverently touching him. It makes Dean slightly uncomfortable, the way that Cas is brushing his fingers and mouth across him like he’s something precious and valuable, as if the angel thinks it could be taken away at any moment. Dean lets him explore while he strokes his back and runs a hand through Cas’s dark locks, finding that they’re just the right length to grab on to.

Cas takes his time, carefully tracing over what feels like every inch of his chest before coming back up to kiss him again. Dean takes the initiative and pushes Cas back to switch their positions, Cas sprawled out under him. He whimpers slightly when Dean kisses him again, hands going to the angel’s hips.

“You don’t have to,” Dean starts, biting his lip.

“Hush,” Cas interrupts. “I told you. I want this with you.”

Dean rests their foreheads together. “And I said we didn’t have to rush things.”

“I do not think this is rushing things, Dean,” Cas tells him softly. He reaches up and strokes a thumb over Dean’s cheek.

Dean hesitates before kissing Cas again quickly. “Okay. But tell me if you want to stop. Anytime.”

“I will,” Cas promises him. “And you tell me if you want to stop.”

Dean looks away for a second. “Yeah. Okay.” Cas kisses him again, but Dean doesn’t let himself be trapped by the warmth in his eyes or his mouth, moving down to kiss Cas’s neck. Cas sighs softly and his hands come up to run through Dean’s hair.

Dean lightly traces Cas’s healing cuts with his mouth, treasuring every sound that the angel makes. He’s still not sure _why_ exactly Cas is here with him now, but he isn’t going to look the gift horse in the mouth. Cas’s hands tighten in his hair when he flicks his tongue over a nipple, and the sound he makes slowly makes Dean’s belly heat up. He’s careful not to disturb any of the healing wounds, but he takes his time learning the contours of Cas’s skin with his mouth and his hands. He tries to memorise what he has to do to make Cas gasp and moan, liking the sounds that the angel’s making.

Cas is still wearing his jeans, and he’s probably in pain now, so Dean slides back up to his mouth while his hand slips down. Cas lets out a small whine when Dean presses the palm of his hand to the bulge in his jeans, and Dean decides that he’s put Cas through enough teasing for his first time. He unbuttons them slowly, hearing Cas’s sigh of relief as he does so.

Dean is also feeling the pain of being stuck in his jeans, so he rolls off Cas for a second to undo them and squirm out of them, pushing them to the floor. Cas must think he’s starting a trend, because Dean hears his pants fall to the ground a few seconds after Dean’s.

Cas cosies up to him, wrapping an arm around his lower back and kissing him deeply. Dean feels his hand brush over the scar on his upper arm and he shudders as Cas becomes sharper in his awareness. The angel doesn’t have anything on anymore, and Dean slides his hand down to get a handful of his ass, which is firm and round and begging to be touched. Cas doesn’t seem to mind the groping, tangling their legs together and poking Dean in the stomach. Cas’s hands slide down his back as he breaks off the kiss, and Dean lets him pull his boxers off, the angel throwing them away as if they’re inconsequential.

Dean can’t help the moan that escapes him when his cock slides over Cas’s bare skin. Fuck, they hadn’t even really done anything yet and he’s feeling like he’s going to fall apart.

Dean wraps his hand around Cas’s cock, giving it a few tugs. The angel tenses and Dean looks up to find wide eyes staring at him.

“Is this okay?” Dean asks quietly. Cas leans forward and kisses him in answer, desperately panting into Dean’s mouth. Dean smiles against his skin, tightening his grasp.

“Dean,” Cas keens softly. The heat in Dean’s stomach moves lower at the sound, and he moves so that he can slide their dicks together in his hand, Cas’s hands tightening where they rest on him.

Dean matches up the movements of their hips, causing himself to groan softly. Cas is _here_ and is doing this with him, and is _enjoying it_ and that’s certainly helping Dean along downstairs. The angel is letting out gasps and moans, bringing their mouths together sloppily and throwing his head back when Dean squeezes his hand around them both.

“So fucking hot, Cas,” Dean gasps, kissing the other man. Cas’s hips are moving against his own, and his eyes are half closed and unfocused. “Cas,” Dean pants. “Cas, look at me.”

Cas’s blue eyes open and Dean twists his hand sharply. He bites his lip as Cas’s eyes slide closed and he lets out a deep throated groan as white jumps from his cock. Dean keeps working them, chasing the edge that Cas is toppling off, feeling his gut tighten and vision start to spark, instinctively biting down on Cas’s shoulder as he comes.

Dean opens his eyes, blinking at the ceiling. Cas’s head is resting on his chest, over his heart, and his fingers are tracing lazy patterns over his skin. He turns his head slowly, not really wanting to move but needing to see Cas.

The angel looks blissed out and ready to fall asleep at any moment. Dean shifts slightly and winces at the stickiness covering him. He gently pushes Cas off him to sit up and reach for the bedside table, to open the drawer and pull out a few tissues. He mops as much of their come up as he can from himself, and then pays attention to Cas, not wanting him to wake up uncomfortable. Cas looks at him sleepily as Dean puts it back on the table and pulls the covers up over them both. Cas moves towards him and Dean wraps an arm around him, pulling him close. Cas kisses him softly before sighing and settling down next to Dean.

Dean doesn’t fight the urge to sleep, closing his eyes and holding Cas close.

~*~*~*~

Castiel settles down beside Dean, sighing softly. Dean’s fingers are gently swiping across his skin, but they soon slow and stop, Dean’s breathing becoming regular. Castiel worms his head underneath Dean’s, close enough to hear the steady beat of his heart in his throat. He closes his eyes, the darkness beckoning him into sleep. He does not give into it yet, savouring the feeling of Dean pressed up against him. For all of the assuredness he had displayed while talking to Dean’s family, he is not sure where exactly the Sword would have fallen. He is just guessing, using the knowledge that he has to try and help Dean when it is most needed.

He does not know, really, what is going to happen in the future. He does not know where the road they are following will lead them. He does not know how the century long conflict will end – he can only hope for the best.

He can only hope that they will all come out of this alive.


	16. Stepping Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm doing NaNo this year, and it's not this fic (more destiel though, ugh, I need help) so don't expect an update too soon...

_Shame blood limping back to Sam his brother’s scared face shame dad not noticing that something was wrong shame Sam’s fear and determination Bobby and dad screaming at each other fear pain_ shame _–_

Dean jerks upwards, gasping. He curls up, wrapping his arms around his legs and putting his head down, ignoring Cas next to him and the angel’s worried questions.

It takes a few minutes for his breathing to calm down. Cas reaches out to touch him, but Dean flinches away from his hand, and Cas pulls back, making a low, distressed sound. Dean tries to relax his muscles slowly, breathing out the tension in his body. Cas is silent, merely sitting next to him motionlessly.

“Sorry,” Dean mutters. _It’s just Cas. It’s just Cas._ He reaches out blindly to fumble around until he finds Cas’s arm, and then pulls the angel towards him, leaning on him slightly. Cas slips an arm down around his waist, encouraging the movement. Dean goes reluctantly, but it feels good to be wrapped up in Cas’s arms.

“You have nothing to apologise for, Dean.”

Dean lets out a deep breath. He turns into Cas, letting the angel support him. Cas fits them together easily, like he’s been doing this far longer than he has been. Cas runs a hand through his hair and Dean tucks his head under the angel’s chin. They sit like that and Dean tries not to think about anything to do with his dream. Instead he watches the fall of sunlight over Cas and the bandage on his thigh and how it creates shadows and dips on his bare skin.

“How are you feeling?” Cas asks him.

“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean mumbles. Cas doesn’t call him out on the lie, but Dean can feel the angel’s concern in the set of his shoulders and the way his hands are soothing his skin. “How are you?” He asks, trying to divert Cas’ attention by running a hand over the bruise on his shoulder. “Sorry I bit you.”

Cas shrugs. “It does not hurt,” he says.

“Still,” Dean says softly. Guilt starts to worm through him. Cas wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, he knows that. He shouldn’t have reacted like that, even after dreaming of _that._

A few more minutes pass before Dean begins to feel cooped up. He leans back, Cas letting him go reluctantly, to slide out of the bed and stretch, feeling his back pop. When he turns to look at Cas, the angel is sitting up, watching him like he usually does. Dean holds out his hand, and Cas tilts his head as he reaches out to grab it. Dean pulls him to his feet, putting a bit too much force into the action, so that Cas ends up pressed up against him. Dean ducks his head to kiss the angel softly, and Cas leans up into it.

“Come shower with me,” Dean whispers against Cas’s lips. The angel narrows his eyes slightly.

“I thought you said that you should not enter the bathroom while someone else is in the shower?”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Uh, yeah, when you’re not in a relationship, it’s pretty taboo.”

Cas blinks. “So now that we are, it is considered appropriate to be there while the other cleans themselves?”

Dean smiles for half a second. “That’s not really why they come in while they shower Cas.”

Cas tilts his head, and in answer Dean leans down and kisses him again, putting more force into it while he rests his hands on his hips.

When he leans back, Cas blinks a few times before saying, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Dean smirks. “Oh.”

Cas looks at him, eyes searching his. “Dean,” he says softly.

Dean’s jaw tightens. “Cas, don’t.”

Cas moves his hands up to cup Dean’s face, eyes gentle. “I understand. You do not have to push yourself.”

Dean twists his head, breaking free of the angel’s grip. “I’m not.”

Cas doesn’t say anything, the silence hanging between them heavily. Cas reaches out to take his hands, and Dean looks down at them silently. He slowly leans down to rest his forehead against Cas’, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the understanding in the angel’s.

“You are going to be alright Dean.” Cas tells him softly. “Maybe not now, maybe not in a month. But you will be alright, someday. And I am going to help you get there.”

Dean feels his throat clog. “Thanks, Cas,” he whispers.

They stand there for a long time.

~*~*~*~

The days skip past as they wait for either side to make a move. Cas’s cuts heal, and the stab in his thigh closes quicker than it should, Cas’s hypothesis about his healing coming true. They loiter at the Roadhouse, working for their keep, waiting, endless waiting.

They pass the time in different ways. Dean teaches Cas how to play pool and poker, the angel getting very good at the card game. Dean warns him multiple times that counting cards is illegal, but Cas’s memory combined with his expressionless face make him a tough opponent to beat. They go out to shop for a wardrobe for Cas, bringing home more than he probably needs. Dean gets to know Cas in the small ways, like how he is in the morning when he’s just woken up, and what he does with his free time. Cas also talks about his past when prompted, usually by Sam, who listens with wide eyes as Cas describes historic battles and what it was _really_ like in Egypt three thousand years ago.

A few weeks after Cas has been back at the Roadhouse, Dean decides to scratch the itch he’s been feeling for a while. He finds Cas in the kitchen, looking slightly confused as he attempts to navigate the laptop. It makes Dean smile as he slides his hands over Cas’s shoulders.

“Hello Dean,” Cas says, looking up at him. Dean glances at what he’s looking at – some news website in Arabic or something, what the hell – before kissing the top of his head.

“Wanna do something fun?”

“I am reading about the –”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s not fun. Come on,” Dean says, lifting an eyebrow and trying to copy Sam’s puppy eyes. By the way Cas doesn’t immediately leap out of the chair, he thinks he’s failed.

“What is it?”

“Come and spar with me. There’s a gym here, and I haven’t fought anyone in ages.” They’d still been going through the Enochian, but Dean hadn’t wanted to put any strain on Cas’ leg while it was still healing.

Cas doesn’t look convinced, so Dean tries out his next line of reasoning, hoping that it works, because that’s as far as he went in planning.

“Come on,” Dean says. “It’ll get you back in the swing of things, now that your leg’s mostly healed.”

Cas doesn’t need much more convincing until he follows Dean to the room next to the panic room, which has a soft floor so you don’t get hurt if you get pushed over. Dean gets out his fake sword while Cas draws his real one, which he always keeps on him, no matter what Dean says.

“Just remember, you’re human now. Now more whizzing around to stab me from behind, no super strength. You’ve got to rely on your skills and wits more now.”

“I know that Dean,” Cas tells him, frowning.

“You know how to fight as a human – you taught me. Just do that.”

They settle into their fighting stances, and Dean narrows his eyes. At the prospect of facing off against Cas, his body is immediately ready to move, dodge out of the way and not get caught in the trap of his superior strength. But Cas doesn’t have the strength or the speed anymore, just his skills, which would still be relying on that strength and speed.

Dean lunges forwards, stroking downwards. Cas catches it on his sword but his eyes narrow when he cannot immediately cast it off. They stand still for a second, straining against one another, until Cas tilts his sword and Dean’s slides off. Cas tries to sneak a hit in but Dean blocks it easily, flicking his sword around to catch Cas’s and disarm him before stepping up to rest his blade against his heart.

Cas looks him in the eyes as Dean slowly lowers the blade. “Bit different now, huh?”

“Yes,” Cas replies, after a pause. “A bit.”

Dean picks Cas’s sword up for him and hands it back.

“Slower this time,” Dean suggests, and they go through the movements at half speed. When they’re just focusing on technique, it’s obvious that Cas has the upper hand. But when the fight speeds up again, Cas can’t keep up with the movements, his coordination not as good as it could be.

They fight for another hour, ending when Dean slams Cas up against a wall, pinning him with his body. The angel is panting, and Dean doesn’t let their eyes unlock as he closes the distance between their mouths, the passion of the fight changing form. It’s a fierce kiss, Cas not giving any ground, Dean pressing closer to him.

“Okay, I was admiring your fighting, but I didn’t need to see that.”

Dean breaks off from Cas and looks over his shoulder. Sam is standing in the doorway, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Well then you should have told me you were there,” Dean replies. He steps back from Cas, who raises an eyebrow at him.

“Sam has been standing there for twenty minutes, Dean. I think that you should have noticed him by then.”

Dean shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I was concentrating on you.” Cas locks eyes with him, and Dean doesn’t look away, trying to tell the angel that he’d rather be back up against the wall with him than talking with Sam.

Sam clears his throat. “Do you have another one of those swords?”

Cas shakes his head. “No. The only blades we have access to are my own and Sariel’s. It would be extremely difficult to procure any others.”

“Damn,” Sam says. “And there’s nothing else that can harm an angel?”

“Nothing we can get to easily.”

“Of course,” Sam sighs. “I’m going to go check if anything’s happened yet.”

Dean nods, even though he knows that it’s useless. Sam glares at him before he walks out the door, and Dean’s guess is that his brother doesn’t want to see anything else that might happen between himself and Cas. Dean can’t help but smirk after Sam. He knows Dean too well.

Dean doesn’t waste any time in turning back to Cas, who is still against the wall. Cas welcomes him back, arms wrapping around Dean to bring him in close as Dean nuzzles up under his chin, nipping at the skin there. Cas catches his mouth with his own, licking Dean’s lips and Dean brings his hands up, sliding them slowly into Cas’s hair as he deepens the kiss.

There’s a sharp prick against his neck, and Dean opens his eyes in surprise. Cas is smirking at him.

“Never let your guard down,” he warns, taking his sword away from Dean’s neck and sliding it up his sleeve.

“I was distracted,” Dean murmurs.

“True,” Cas says proudly. “I am very distracting.”

Dean kisses him again just to shut him up.

~*~*~*~

Madison purses her lips, looking down the trail. The scent of the other pack isn’t in the air, and it’s getting late. Thomas is in charge of the other half of her pack on the other side of the trail, ready to get the Alpha’s pack in a vice grip and kill them all. She has Elspeth in the shadows, leading a small group who would be in reserve if they were needed, but are really there to help with the clean-up, and anyone who needs immediate medical attention.

She can almost smell the moon. It’s nearly here, and her skin is itching with the Change about to come. The wolves with her are jumpy as well, snapping at each other only to apologise a minute later. They all know that there’s a fight coming, and that there’s a chance that not everyone will come out of this alive.

She’s keeping a particular eye on Garth. It’s his first full moon, and she had been very hesitant to let him come along on this mission. He isn’t sure what he’s doing, and he doesn’t really know what he’s getting into, but the only other option that was worse than having him here would be having him somewhere without the pack that had become his family in the past few weeks. She doesn’t want him going feral on his first full moon.

A shiver runs over her skin. The muted conversation behind her ceases, and she can feel their attention shift to the sky.

She takes a deep breath in. The scent of the approaching pack is in the air, and she shakes her head as she feels the first stages of the Change start to overcome her.

“Everyone ready?” She asks, even though it’s redundant. The other pack might not have scented them yet, but they will when they pass here, and they would track them down. A fight would be coming. They just had to use their surprise and preparation as an advantage against the Alpha’s pack.

She’s met with terse nods, and she smiles at them all.

“Good. Then let’s get this show on the road, and kick some ass.”

Her family smiles back at her.

~*~*~*~

Dean wakes up with his mouth feeling like something had died in it. He squints at the time, the light of the clock too bright. It’s just after eight, and Dean doesn’t know when they went to bed last night. Cas is pressed up along his front, one arm over Dean’s where his is curled around the angel. Dean moves his face away from Cas’s hair, the strands tickling his nose.

He’s not quite sure if he and Cas had ended the night by drunkenly making out on top of one of the tables in the Roadhouse or if that’s just something that he dreamed, but Cas is snoring away in front of him topless and with one shoe on, so he’s going to consider the possibility that it actually happened. Okay. No more drinking from now on. He snorts at the thought, wincing when his head throbs.

He sits up slowly, rubbing at his eyes blearily. He pushes Cas’s shirt off him and onto the floor, scowling at his unbuttoned jeans, which were half way down his thighs. Jesus, what happened last night?

He’s just glad that someone had the sense to draw the curtains, because his head is hurting from the small amount of light in the room, and he’s fairly sure that Cas isn’t going to be much better. He stands, not impeded by any sheets because they had been sleeping on top of the covers, and pulls his pants up. Cas lets out a sound and rolls over, arm reaching out into the space where Dean had just been laying. Dean smiles at him, but walks out anyway, squinting so that he doesn’t get too much light in his eyes.

Ellen is in behind the bar when Dean comes out of the back room.

“Good morning,” she drawls, and Dean hushes her. “You really get that drunk last night?”

“I haven’t had much alcohol lately,” Dean mumbles. Ellen snorts and goes to switch on the TV in the corner of the room, probably just to spite him, while Dean sits down at the counter. The news comes on, and Dean half pays attention to it, half pays attention to the cereal that Ellen had just put down in front of him. Wincing as the sun suddenly comes through the windows, Dean starts to scoop the cereal up, not complaining for once that it’s some weird muesli thing. It doesn’t have yoghurt in it, so he can deal with it.

“You feelin’ alright?” Ellen asks, a touch of amusement in her voice. Dean decides that it isn’t worth the effort to reply, glaring at her instead. Ellen laughs at him, organising the bottles behind the counter, the soft noise that the glass is making still too loud for Dean’s sensitive ears.

Dean grabs some pills to help with the pounding headache behind his forehead, and he sits in the kitchen for ten minutes until he feels like he can look around without wanting to throw up.

“What happened last night?” He asks plaintively.

Ellen smirks at him. “You can’t remember?”

“A bit,” Dean says vaguely.

“So you don’t remember mentally scarring your brother by having him discover you and Cas making out on one of my tables?”

“Ugh,” Dean groans. “I’m sorry.”

“Everyone else had prior warning, so we didn’t take as much damage.”

“This was after everyone else left, right?”

“Yeah,” Ellen says, which reassures him slightly.

“I’m gonna have to apologise to Sam,” Dean mumbles to himself.

“Shush,” Ellen says.

“I’m not even being loud,” Dean complains.

“Dean,” Ellen rebukes him, and Dean realises that she’s looking at the TV, where a dark haired female news anchor is speaking.

“… been a massive mass mauling just outside McAlester, Oklahoma. It happened in the early hours of this morning, and we’re crossing live to our reporter at the site. Mark, how are the police coping with the press and media coverage of the event? How are things progressing in McAlester?”

The screen switches to a blonde man standing in front of the yellow crime scene tape. There are police officers swarming in the background, as well as several people in dark suits. One of them has red hair, but the camera zooms in to the reporter before Dean can really focus on them.

“Zowee, things are hectic down here. Seven teenagers were reported missing this morning, their concerned parents telling the local authorities about the party that they had all attended in this secluded picnic spot just outside of town last night. When police arrived, they found several bodies viciously mauled. While not much more information has been made available to the public, police have warned people in this area to take precautions, and to stay indoors for the next few days, until the animals that have done this have been found. The FBI are here, but why they would be involved in an animal mauling, I don’t know. Unless it’s not an animal mauling, but something else entirely?” The blonde man waggles his eyebrows.

“We just don’t know,” the young woman replies. “We’ll keep you updated on the situation as it develops. In other news…”

Dean tunes it out, looking at Ellen. She’s frowning at the TV while she puts glasses away.

“It was a full moon last night, wasn’t it?” Dean asks groggily. Ellen shakes her head slowly.

“It’s tonight, but they can change on the day before and after the full moon, can’t they?” Dean nods slowly and Ellen sighs. “I’m thinking werewolves. But I saw your gang in the background of that news, so they probably have things under control.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, but worry starts to turn over in his stomach. Could they handle it? He shakes his head, but that makes the room spin for a minute, so he keeps his head still after that. They’re competent people. They’ll be fine.

His phone rings in his pocket. Scowling at the loud noise, he grabs it, looking at the screen.

**Madison**

A thrill of anticipation going through him, he answers the call, bringing his phone up to his ear.

“Dean,” Madison says, her voice breathless. “Dean, I need your help.”

Dean doesn’t hesitate before replying. He owes the werewolf for rescuing Cas. It was a debt that he had to repay.

“What’s going on?”

“You’ve probably seen it on the news already,” Madison whispers. “We finally caught up to the Alpha’s pack. We set traps, we were prepared. I thought that there was no way that it could go wrong.”

“But it did,” Dean finishes. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his head.

“It killed some of the younger wolves, sure,” Madison continues. “But it didn’t do anything against the older ones, or the Alpha. We went into open battle, and half of my pack was killed, including my second in command. When I called retreat, more wolves were killed. I only have nine left, now. Out of thirty-one. We’re all hiding, but it’s only a limited time until they find us.”

“Shit,” Dean swears lowly. “Look, where are you?”

“Oklahoma. After chasing after us, and us getting away, the Alpha mustn’t have been able to control some of her wolves. They went on a killing spree, eating the hearts of those teenagers and not doing anything about the bodies. Dean, if there’s going to be any hope of my pack getting out of here alive, it’s going to be through killing that pack.”

“It sounds like a massive job,” Dean replies.

“Bring your brother, your FBI friends, your mate, I don’t care. I need help, Dean. I’m cashing in my chips.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, after a few seconds have passed. “I’ll get us all there. Just lay low until I call you again, okay?”

“Okay,” Madison says, letting out a breath. “Okay. Just hurry. I don’t think that the Alpha’s going to wait long before hunting us down.”

“I got it. Hang in there.” Dean hangs up.

“What was that about?” Ellen asks curiously.

“You up for a werewolf hunt?” Dean asks her. Ellen’s eyes narrow.

“If I get to see my daughter, I suppose the trip is worth it,” she replies. Dean nods.

“Yeah. We’re gonna need all the hands we can have. And that includes the SPN unit.”

Ellen nods sharply, and Dean finishes the rest of his breakfast before standing up, planning out everything they would need for the trip.

He slowly opens the door to their room after waking Sam up. Cas is still sleeping, and Dean is loath to wake him. Sitting down on the bed, he extends an arm to gently shake Cas awake. The angel mumbles and rolls over closer to Dean.

“Cas,” Dean whispers, knowing that he probably has a hangover as well. “Cas, you need to wake up.”

Cas groans and buries his head in the pillow. “Don wanna,” he moans. “Everythin hurts.”

“I know,” Dean says softly. “Have some water.”

He waits until Cas moves again, sitting up very slowly and glaring at everything. He takes the glass from Dean and sips it for a few seconds, hardly having any of the water.

“Have some painkillers with it,” Dean suggests, holding out two tablets. Cas glares at them as well, taking them and only taking a few minutes to choke them down. “Not too bad for your first time swallowing pills. Madison called. She needs our help. Just wake up while I help organise everything, okay? No need to rush.”

Cas nods sleepily. “And have a shower,” Dean suggests. He closes the door after he leaves as quietly as he can, not wanting to hurt the angel’s ears. There’s a quick meeting in the main room of the Roadhouse, where it’s decided that Bill will stay behind to look after the restaurant. He doesn’t look happy about it, but Ellen reasons that one of them has to stay here, and that nothing is going to stop her from seeing Jo, especially if there’s something going on that might have her daughter in danger. Dean finds his sunglasses before venturing outside, the world still too bright for him as he packs the boot of the Impala. Sam will ride with him and Cas, and Ellen has her own truck with her own equipment that she’ll bring.

When they’re all packed, dressed, and ready to hit the road, Cas still hasn’t appeared from the Roadhouse.

“It’s his first hangover,” Dean reasons with his foster mother and brother. “I’ll go check on him.”

Ellen just rolls her eyes while Sam huffs slightly. Dean hurries back inside to find Cas snoring in the bed, completely oblivious to the world. The painkillers had probably knocked him out.

Dean frowns at the angel. Even though they’d been working on getting Cas used to using his sword again after his Fall, to go up against werewolves, you really needed guns, and they had hardly done anything in that area. Cas wouldn’t like being left behind, but Dean really doesn’t think that he’s ready to go out in the field yet.

Decision made, he scribbles a note down on a piece of paper and leaves it on the bedside table. He closes the door quietly and goes back outside to where Sam and Ellen are waiting.

“Cas is still down after last night. He’s not moving for the next few hours.”

“So we just leave him here?” Sam asks, looking concerned.

“We’re time poor. He’ll be fine,” Ellen says, getting into her truck. Dean thinks she looks about as relived as he feels to have Cas out of harm’s way. Sam looks skeptical, but gets into the Impala with Dean.

“We’re good to go,” Dean says, feeling the restlessness inside him start to evaporate as he turns his baby out onto the road. A month after leaving the FBI, and he’s more than ready to get out of the rut of doing nothing, more than ready to face the up-coming action.

Dean can’t wait for it to start.

~*~*~*~

Charlie looks over the information in front of her, frowning slightly at the discrepancies.

The mauling’s had obviously been done by werewolves. The police hadn’t released the fact that all of the teenagers had been missing their hearts, and the tracks around the clearing that they had found before the SPN unit had arrived were obviously from werewolves, if you knew what you were looking for.

Victor and Annie are cleaning their guns and checking their silver bullets. They’re pretty sure they know where the pack headed after tearing up those teenagers. The tracks met up with more werewolves, and from there it split into several parts. Some looped back to a forest, where they hadn’t followed the tracks because Victor hadn’t had enough time to. Some went ahead and others went back to then join up with the original group for no reason that she could figure out.

There was also a place where a group of wolves had waited for some time as humans. There’s evidence of a campsite, and a scuffle where the two groups had met. It’s almost like there had been two packs…

But there aren’t any dead bodies, wolf or human, in the area where this hypothetical fight would have occurred, so Charlie is reluctant to say that that’s what happened.

Ash and Jo are out investigating the warehouse that they think the werewolves are holed up in. They need more information before they can make a move, and Charlie wants to get rid of these werewolves as soon as possible, before they can turn anyone else. The memory of what happened to Garth is still too fresh in her mind, and the fact that it happened just after Dean left the FBI with Cas…

She shakes her head, trying to get rid of the thoughts so she could concentrate on the information in front of her. Worry for Dean and Cas surrounds her whenever she thinks about them, and the fact that no one had heard from Sam in nearly a month as well does nothing to reassure her, even though she assumes that they must be together. She understands that her accounts and phones are all monitored, but she would have liked to have gotten something from them, if only to make sure that they’re fine.

Charlie sighs. It’s getting late – the others should be back soon. She’ll wait until they get here to discuss the rest of the information with them and try to figure out their next move.

She stands up and paces around the motel room. It’s a double, even though she’s not sharing with anyone. She only got it out of habit, and then had shrugged and suggested that everyone should use it as a meeting place so they could organise the hunt.

There’s a knock on the door. She frowns. The others shouldn’t be here yet. Cautious, she picks up her gun and puts it to the back of the door before she opens it slowly.

Her mouth drops open. “Dean?” She asks, not knowing if she’s finally started seeing things. The older man smiles at her and sweeps her into a hug, which Charlie returns happily. “Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen you in forever!”

It had been over a month, but it had seemed like so much longer. Especially with the loss of Garth, morale in the unit had been low. She puts her gun down when Dean lets go of her, and Charlie sees Sam behind him.

“Sam!” She says happily, and hugs him as well.

“Hey Charlie,” Sam greets her. Dean is smiling at her.

“Long time no see,” Dean says. Charlie realises that Ellen is behind Sam and she smiles at the other woman.

“Hi.”

Ellen nods at her. “Where are the others?” Where is Jo, she basically askes, but Charlie doesn’t mind.

“They’re out investigating. What are you doing here?”

“We saw the news article about this,” Sam says.

“Madison called me in for help,” Dean says at nearly the same time. The brothers look at each other for a moment as Charlie narrows her eyes.

“Madison? The werewolf? You’re in touch with her?” She tries not to feel left out.

Dean rubs the back of his neck. “There’s a lot you missed out on,” he says, and Charlie nods.

“Yeah, it sounds like there is. And you’re going to tell me _all_ of it,” she raises her eyebrows at Dean. Dean flushes slightly and Charlie sees Ellen roll her eyes out of the corner of her eye while Sam just looks uncomfortable. Charlie doesn’t care though – she’s been needing details about Dean and Castiel for the last few months, and she is going to pry some out of Dean even if it kills her.

There’s another knock on the door, and Charlie walks over to open it again. Jo, Victor, Ash and Annie are standing on the other side, and they look as surprised to see Dean, Sam and Ellen there as Charlie was.

Annie pulls out a flask of holy water and splashes Dean in the face with it. Dean blinks it out of his eyes, pulling an aggravated face and then spitting some water out of his mouth.

“We’re us, Annie.” To prove his point, Dean pulls out a silver knife and cuts the back of his arm and stares at the newcomers as they watch him not burn and flinch in pain.

Jo’s face breaks out in a smile and she goes over to hug Ellen. Victor speaks while they’re still embracing.

“Why are you here?” He asks.

“Madison called, asking for backup. She fought against the other pack and when they beat her some of the younger members went on a killing spree and mauled those teens. It’s the Alpha pack, which is the one that’s been causing trouble.”

The SPN unit freeze. Dean lowers his eyebrows in confusion at them. “What?” Charlie looks around at Dean, wincing when she realises he doesn’t know what had happened. “Where’s Garth?” Dean asks them.

“Oh,” Jo says quietly. “You don’t know.”

Charlie sees fear in Dean’s stance, even though he doesn’t let it show on his face. “What happened?”

Ash lets out a breath and explains. Dean’s teeth are gritted the entire time. Charlie can see it from where she’s standing.

“So he’s a werewolf now,” he says flatly, when Ash is finished.

“And running with Madison. If she’s here, then we might be able to see Garth.”

Dean shakes his head and lets out a deep breath. “What have you got?” Dean asks, and Charlie can almost feel him trying to change the subject.

“We think the werewolves are holed up here,” Jo says, taking the chance Dean is giving her and pointing to a block on the map on the table. “That’s where we tracked them to.” Charlie nods.

“What other information do you have?” Ellen asks her daughter.

“Not much,” Jo admits. “It took us a while to get out here, and then we didn’t want to be out after dark with the moon still full enough for them to turn and us without back up.

“How about I call Madison?” Dean asks. “I don’t know if she’ll pick up, but if she does we’ll have a whole lot more information.”

Charlie nods, and so does everyone else. Dean takes his phone out and mutters something when he sees the time. “I hadn’t realised how late it had gotten. I’d better call Cas first. I promised.”

He stands and walks over to the corner of the room, so he can hear his calls better away from the group of people gathered around the table.

He presses a few buttons and then brings the phone up to his ear. There’s a pause, and then he starts talking. He shifts, and Charlie watches Dean’s back, and she can see the tautness of his muscles and how he stands uneasily. She frowns, wondering what he could be talking about with Cas to make him have that reaction.

Ellen keeps pointing at places where they could make their approach, and Victor keeps rebutting her arguments. Annie is looking on, while Charlie had tuned them out in favour of watching Dean and his reactions to whatever Castiel is saying. He clearly isn’t happy with it, but if Charlie was Cas, and she got dumped back at base while everyone else went off to fight, she’d be pretty pissed too. She didn’t blame Cas for chewing Dean out for it.

Dean talks for another minute and then hangs up. He sighs and looks up at the ceiling before pressing a few more buttons and holding up the phone again. Madison obviously picks up, because Dean talks for five minutes with her before coming back to the table. Ellen and Victor have decided on an entry, and are now swapping stories of past battles against werewolves.

“Bad news,” Dean sighs as he sits down. “They’ve moved. They aren’t in this building anymore.”

Everyone grumbles a bit, but Dean pulls out a book of maps of Oklahoma, and quickly finds where he’s looking for. “Madison knows that the Alpha’s pack is gunning for her, so she’s holed up in a place where she’s going to make her last stand.” Dean points to a valley that terminates, the cliffs too tall and too sheer for even werewolves to jump down. “She’s here, and the Alpha’s pack is going to have to come up the valley to her. It’s a fight to the death, and the other pack are already approaching, according to Madison. We need to get there tomorrow, and that’s when she thinks they’ll come in and attack. Garth is still alive,” he says, and everyone lets out a sigh of relief.

“So there’s not much strategy involved for that,” Annie says, scowling at the map.

“No,” Dean says. “There isn’t. But I want to put snipers on the top of the cliffs who can shoot the werewolves before they even get to us.” He looks at Annie, and she scowls at him, switching from the map.

“What?”

“You’re the best gunner here. I need you on the cliff.”

Annie rubs the back of her neck but doesn’t put up a defence. Charlie knows that she’s the best they’ve got, and Annie knows it as well.

“I don’t like it,” she mumbles, but Charlie can tell that she’s going to do it.

“Victor, I want you up there as well. You’re pretty good with a rifle, and we’re going to need to cut down as many of the wolves as we can. There’s a clearing at the end of the valley, and that’s where we’re going to be making out stand. You can shoot anything easily from there.”

Victor sighs but he agrees as well.

“Is there anything else to organise?” Dean asks. No one says anything, and he nods. “Okay, we all need a good night’s sleep, so we should get to that, yeah?”

Everyone stands, and Charlie watches them leave. Dean stays, and she can only assume that he wants to share a room like they usually do. She watches him relax and then slouch as everyone leaves.

“What did Cas say?” She asks him after he locks the door.

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t so perceptive,” he says quietly. “He’s unhappy that he got left behind.”

“I’d be pissed as well,” Charlie offers.

“I’m just worried about him,” Dean says softly. He sighs.

“He’s his own person, Dean. He can make his own mistakes.”

Dean sighs and sits down on his bed to take his shoes off. “I want to protect him.”

“Do you think he wants protecting though?” Charlie asks him. He doesn’t have to say anything for her to see his answer. “Dean, you can’t smother him.”

“I know,” Dean says. He strips his jeans off and climbs in under the covers. “Get some rest Charlie. We’ll need it for tomorrow.”

Charlie purses her mouth at the obvious dismissal, but she gets ready to get some sleep as well, knowing that Dean is right, even if he’s being annoying right now.

~*~*~*~

Castiel doesn’t want to wake up. His head is pounding, not as bad as before Dean had given him the painkillers, but still pounding. He’s not sure if he has a tongue anymore, and his stomach is rolling around unhappily.

He cracks one eye open. He looks around for a few seconds, decides that it’s too bright, and closes it again. A faint memory of Dean telling him to shower floats up into his head, and he sighs.

He goes to push back the covers before realising that they are not there. Disconcerted, he sits up slowly, squinting down at himself. He’s wearing no shirt and one shoe, which he leans down to take off.

When he opens the door to their room, the rest of the building is quiet. He leans back inside to check the time, which says that it’s just after eleven. The lunch staff should be here, but he can’t hear their customary clatter.

Shrugging it off as unimportant, he slowly walks down to the bathroom and showers, taking the time to try and scrub off anything still on him while trying to ignore his head and the noise of the water, which he had decided about three seconds into the shower was too loud.

He finds some clean clothes in his drawer, and is about to leave to search for anyone when he sees the note on his bedside table.

Frowning, he picks it up and unfolds it, seeing Dean’s messy script fill the page.

_Cas,_

_I couldn’t wake you up, and I think the pills knocked you out. We can’t wait for you because Madison needs help, and because I want you safe but I will call later when you’re awake. Don’t take anything ~~at all~~ else unless Bill gives it to you – he knows more about how to take medicine than you do. I hope you’re feeling better later. _

_Dean_

Castiel reads the note twice, jaw tight, before putting it back on the table and walks out to the main room.

Bill is standing behind the bar, wiping up glasses and putting them back in their proper place. There’s no one else around, and Castiel realises that it’s Saturday. The bar doesn’t open until five on Saturday, which is why they had allowed themselves to get drunk last night.

Bill looks up when he walks in. “Cas,” he greets him, and Castiel thinks that he doesn’t look happy to be left behind either.

“When did they leave?” He asks.

Bill shrugs, leaning over to pick up another glass. “About three hours ago. They’ll be out of the state by now.”

Cas feels his mouth purse, and sees Bill’s knowing look. He picks up a mop and starts to clean the floor, concentrating on that so that he does not have to think about Dean leaving him behind.

He cleans the entire main room and then moves onto the back room, dusting and mopping and wiping surfaces and putting away everything he could. Bill would go through the room he was working on every twenty minutes, just to check on him, but Castiel never acknowledged him. The simple tasks calmed him down, and he can let his mind blank while he does it.

He puts all of his supplies away just after four. He checks his phone, but no calls have come through, and he would have heard them if they had. He’s organising some of the food in the pantry when Bill comes into the kitchen.

“Have you eaten anything yet?” He asks. Castiel freezes for a second. He has not, and now that Bill has said something about it, he can feel his stomach chewing at nothing. Without the others to eat with, he had completely forgotten about it.

“No,” he admits.

“I thought so,” Bill says. Castiel shuts the cupboard and watches as the man puts together a few sandwiches, Bill’s with pickles and ham, and Castiel’s with peanut butter. Castiel takes his with a grave thank you, and Bill smiles at him. “Thanks for cleaning up everything today.”

Castiel shrugs. “It was no trouble.”

“Still. Ellen and the boys hate cleaning, so I’m the one who usually has to do it all.”

Castiel smiles for a second at him. They finish their food, and Bill goes into the longue room. Castiel heads into the small gym. He tapes up his knuckles and strips his shirt and shoes off, starting at the punching bag. The exercise clears his mind, and he focuses on the form of his punches. He stops when he’s dripping sweat and showers, the silence coming from his phone beginning to grate on his nerves. Dean had said he would call.

He’s taken up the gun Dean had given him – _From my own personal collection. She’s a beauty, and if you take care of her, she’ll take care of you­_ – and had been shooting for half an hour when he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket.

He takes his earmuffs off and fumbles for his phone, clicking the green button and bringing it up to his ear.

“Hello Dean,” he says.

“Hey Cas,” Dean replies. “How you doing?”

“Fine,” Castiel says. “Practising my shooting.”

“Good, good,” Dean says.

“You arrived on time?” Castiel asks him.

“Yeah. We’re planning now.”

Castiel sets down his gun, takes a breath and says nothing. Hurt and anger are rolling around in his chest, and he is not sure how to deal with the emotions. He settles for glaring at the bench in front of him.

“You alright?” Dean says, when it becomes obvious that Castiel is not going to say anything.

“Yes,” Castiel replies. “Dean,” he starts, the emotions in his chest demanding to be let out. Dean must hear something in his voice, because when he replies his voice is guarded.

“Yeah?”

“Why did you leave without me?” Castiel bites out. He is still glaring at the bench, even though it does nothing but make him feel slightly better.

There’s a pause. Castiel tries to burn a hole through the counter in front of him. It would have been easy in the past, but he no longer possesses the ability to do so.

“Cas,” Dean says, voice crackling over the phone. “I didn’t want to take you when you were passed out.”

“You could have carried me, and I could have slept in the back of the Impala,” Castiel growls. “This is not about that. Why didn’t you take me?”

There is a long silence, and Castiel shifts his weight between his feet. He misses Dean’s eyes and glimmer of his soul that Castiel can still see in them, the way the hunter would move unconsciously and how Castiel could tell what he is thinking by the way he stood. This buzzing silence told him nothing of what Dean is thinking.

“I was worried about you.”

“You were worried that I could not care for myself without you there,” Castiel says flatly.

“Cas, we’ll be back in a few days. We’ll talk about it then,” Dean says, his voice strained. Castiel sets his jaw.

“I wish to speak with you about this now.”

“Cas, we’re planning what we have to do so we don’t get ripped apart by werewolves,” Dean tells him.

“So you cannot spare a few minutes to talk to me about this? Am I not that important?” Castiel questions, voice still emotionless.

“No, of course not Cas. You’re important to me. But we’ll talk later, okay?”

Castiel let his silence tell Dean what he is thinking before he replies. “Very well.”

“Thanks,” Dean replies. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel says, and the beeping of a disconnected line rings in his ear.

Castiel puts the phone in his pocket and picks up the gun.

The next shot goes right through the middle of the target.

A buzzing starts up in his ears, and he shakes his head before it peaks and Enochian blares through his skull, his human body rejecting the angelic wavelength that he could still pick up. The message is distorted and painful, but he only needs a few words to figure out what the message is. Castiel swallows.

The demons have made their next move. Now it is Heaven’s turn.

~*~*~*~

The place where they would meet with Madison smells terrible. The rot of garbage and pollution is mixed with the cloying scent of new and old blood. There are rusted pipes and broken glass that make walking hazardous, and Dean is sure that if he just brushes up against anything he’s going to get some sort of infection. Charlie looks about as happy as him to be here, and since she had volunteered to come with him, she could complain all she wanted.

“Dean, this place smells worse than shit.”

“I know,” Dean grimaces. “But this is where Madison said. I checked.”

“Why on earth does she want to meet in such a gross place?” Charlie says, gingerly making her way around some sort of twisted looking metal device with some sort of mould on it that Dean really doesn’t want to think about.

“I’m sure she’ll explain everything,” Dean tells her. “We just have to reach the right spot.”

“Right,” Charlie grumbles. They pick their way through the treacherous land, Dean trying not to breathe too deeply. The twisted oak that marks the meeting point is getting closer, and Dean can see a figure leaning up against it. As they get closer, he can pick out the features of Madison against the dark bark.

“Hey,” Dean calls out. Madison nods at them.

“Thanks for coming Dean,” she says, her voice rough. Now that he’s closer, Dean can see that she looks terrible; there are dark circles under her eyes and her eyes are red, like she’s been crying, or trying not to cry. Her hair is messy and her hands are dirty, and there’s dried bloodstains on her jeans.

“You picked up Cas,” Dean tells her. Charlie nods. Dean had filled her in on what had happened in the car, although he had tried to avoid the small details of his and Cas’ relationship, no matter how hard she pried. It just seemed like something that should stay between them, and them only. “I owe you, Madison.”

Madison nods sharply. “Tell us what happened,” Charlie asks.

Madison takes a deep breath in. “The Alpha is much more powerful than I had thought. It’s going to take more than a pack to bring her down. We know she’s coming for us, and we just need you for back up. We’re going to need your help to win.”

“You have it,” Dean agrees. “It’s our job, and if the Alpha has really been causing as much trouble as you’ve told us, then she needs to be stopped.”

Madison lets out a breath. “She does need to be stopped. Where’s the rest of your team?”

“At our motel, planning.”

“You should call them. It’s tonight or never, and it’s going to take a while to get out to where the pack is.”

Dean purses his lips. “Okay. Give us a place, and we’ll get there.”

Madison gives him a piece of paper. “There’s an address on that. Meet me there by five tonight.” She ducks around the tree, and when Dean leans around it, there’s no movement on the other side.

“Show off,” he mutters. “Come on Charlie, we’ve got to get this back to the others.”

Charlie sighs and starts heading back to the Impala. Dean follows her, making sure not to touch anything on the way out. When they get out of the fenced piece of land, Charlie smiles at him.

“Well, at least that’s over.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. He gets into the Impala and turns the key in the ignition before pulling out onto the road.

Charlie is quiet for a minute before she starts talking.

“So are you going to tell me the real details about you and Cas?” She asks, probably looking at him with a good copy of Sam’s puppy eyes. Dean keeps his eyes on the road so he won’t have to look at them.

“I told you what happened Charlie,” Dean grumbles. “And you’re not getting anything else.”

“Aw, please? Just a few? Don’t expect me to believe that you haven’t slept with him yet, Dean Winchester, because that is a pile of bullshit.”

“It’s none of your business,” Dean mutters.

“Uh, it kind of is. I mean, I was shipping you two like, last year.”

“Charlie!” Dean barks, eyebrows lowered. He really doesn’t want to think about what Charlie does in her spare time that involves him and Cas.

“Is he a good kisser? That’s not even information that’s all that important, just give me that.”

Dean makes the mistake of looking over at Charlie. She’s got the full on pleading eyes going, and he yanks his gaze back to the road, but it’s too late. He’s seen it.

“Sometimes you are like the most annoying little sister,” Dean says mournfully. “You pull those eyes almost as well as Sam.”

“Do I?” She sounds pleased. “I’ve been practising. But you can’t dodge my question Dean,” she says. “Is he a good kisser, yes or no?”

“Yes,” Dean says, after a long silence. “Yes he is.”

Charlie squeals. “I knew it,” she gushes. “Those lips…”

Dean looks at her, eyebrows raised. She has a faraway look in her eyes that makes him feel a little uncomfortable. “Uh, who’s dating him exactly?”

“You two are such a cute couple, I can tell. Even if I’ve only seen you both when you were in the denial stage…”

“You focus on the strangest things Charlie,” Dean tells her. “Seriously.”

Charlie shrugs. They drive in silence for a while until she speaks again.

“So have you two… you know,” she says, and Dean can almost imagine her eyebrows waving. He nearly swerves off the road in response.

“What the hell Charlie?” He exclaims. “You don’t just ask people that!”

“Well, we’ve known each other for a while,” she says. “So have you?”

Dean can feel his cheeks heating. “I think that I don’t want to talk about this.”

She sighs. “Who else do you get to talk about Cas with? I can tell that you’re missing him.”

Dean yanks his hand away from the scar on his shoulder, which he had automatically been touching. “I’ll see him in a few days,” he says gruffly.

There’s a pause, but Dean can tell that Charlie has something else to add. “What if you don’t make it out tomorrow?” She asks quietly. Dean whips his head around to stare at her and she shrugs slightly. “I’m just saying. This is something much more dangerous than what you normally do. What if you don’t see him in a few days? What if the last thing you told him was that you’d talk later? How would he feel about that?”

“What is this, an ambush?” Dean asks, unease rolling around in his chest.

“I just think that Cas deserved better than you leaving him behind,” she says. “And I think you need to accept that.”

Dean grits his teeth and looks back at the road. “We’ll work it out.”

“But what if you can’t?” Charlie asks softly. “You should call him before we go into the fight. Sort things out now.”

Dean doesn’t say anything, and Charlie sighs softly. They don’t say anything for the rest of the drive, and Dean walks away from her when they get back to the motel. He briefs everyone else with his mind elsewhere, quietly trying to turn over what Charlie had said. He supervises everyone getting their gear ready and piling into their cars with a minimum amount of fuss, and he’s still out of it when they arrive at the meeting point just before four o’clock. This is the last place that he’ll have reception before heading out into the forest, and he stares at his phone while everyone else gets out of their cars and gathers with Madison. The female werewolf is probably going over everything again, but Dean’s doesn’t need to hear it.

He swallows and leaves the phone where it is, shutting the door to the Impala, the slam making a echoing sound, as if he had just closed off one path and is about to start another.

The others welcome him into the group, and he listens to Madison talk, nodding as she explains each point in her plan. Dean thinks it’s sound, and no one else argues against it, so they do a final check to make sure that they had all they needed before starting the walk through the forest.

Annie and Victor split off from them as the ground begins to slope, going up to the top of the canyon. The rest of the hunters follow Madison, trying to be as quiet as they can so they don’t alert the werewolves they are approaching.

When they get to the place where Madison said that most of the fighting would occur at, it’s full dark. The moon hasn’t risen yet, but Dean doesn’t think there’s long until it does. There’s a clearing up ahead where the female alpha thinks most of the fighting would go down, and the hunters hunker down while she goes back to her wolves, the few that are remaining.

“How are we going to be able to tell them apart?” Ash asks.

“Madison will probably have them all drink dye that will come through in their fur. So don’t shoot any colourful werewolves,” Dean whispers back.

Ash raises his eyebrows.

A single, lonely howl echoes out from behind them. “I guess that’s the signal,” Dean says. “Everyone ready?”

There’s the muttered clicking of people checking their guns. Dean touches the angel blade in his jacket to reassure himself that it’s there. Blades aren’t the best idea when the werewolves have claws and teeth that can rip you apart at a close range, but it’s a good back up if your gun gets knocked away and there’s a werewolf on top of you.

A clamour of sound from in front of them starts up, and Dean hopes that Victor and Annie are in position. Dean takes a deep breath in and smiles at Charlie, who looks nervous. And then they all stand up, and start making their way forwards.

They’re overtaken by what’s left of Madison’s pack, and they hover at the edge of the clearing for a few minutes while the werewolves fight, picking the non-coloured wolves off with their guns.

That’s until a wolf comes out of nowhere and jumps Jo. Ellen lets out a snarl that could challenge any of the wolves in the clearing in front of them, and from then on all hell breaks loose. There are werewolves everywhere, and Dean fights to keep them off his team and off himself.

It’s not an easy fight. Dean feels as if there are two more werewolves coming at him before he’s finished the one that he’s fighting. He thinks he fights alongside Madison for a while, but he isn’t sure if the vibrant green wolf is really the alpha or if he just wants it to be.

There’s a pause for a few seconds. Dean takes a deep breath and tries to calm his racing heart, he looks around, searching for his next target, and sees the Alpha.

The wolf is standing apart from them all, looking at them all with disdain in its eyes. It’s the biggest and most healthy looking werewolf, and Dean knows that it’s the Alpha without anyone needing to tell him.

The sounds around him stop. Dean looks around to see that the non-coloured werewolves are mostly dead, the coloured wolves tearing at them or leaving them to stalk the few that are remaining around the Alpha on the small hill.

The Alpha growls, but Dean just shoots at it. It dodges to the side and narrowly misses a bullet from above from Annie or Victor. The green wolf who is probably Madison snarls and takes a few steps forward, and the Alpha takes a step back. Dean shoots again, as well as the rest of his team, and the Alpha yelps. The few wolves around it mill in disarray, obviously wanting to fight but not wanting to disobey their leader.

The Alpha yips and they run off into the forest. Dean shoots one more down before they reach the trees, but after that they’re gone. Madison’s pack follows, but none of the humans try to. It would be suicide to go into the forest after the wolves.

Dean goes along his team, making sure that none of them are seriously hurt. Jo has a claw wound in her leg, and she’s favouring it heavily, but Ellen is taking care of it, so Jo should be okay. Charlie has a few scrapes, but other than that they seem miraculously unharmed. Annie and Victor come down to the clearing and they start gathering the bodies of the werewolves, who are now dead in their human form, getting them ready to burn.

It’s nearly sunrise by the time Madison’s pack gets back. Garth goes straight to Ash and starts talking with him lowly. Annie and Victor go over there as well, but Dean sees Madison coming over to him, so he resigns himself to talking with her instead of greeting Garth. The alpha has picked up a shirt and loose pants somewhere, but there aren’t any shoes on her feet.

“Hey. Everything go alright?”

“Some of them got away. They made it to some cars, and there’s no way we can track them that way while we’re human. That Alpha, she knew that the moon was going down, and she organised it like that.” She bares her teeth, but seems to accept that there’s nothing she can do about the situation.

Dean nods. “Bummer. You’ll deal with it.”

She sighs. “I owe you Dean,” Madison says, obviously not liking it, but having to say it anyway. “The sooner you clear that debt with me, the happier I’ll be. So the next time you need a helping paw, call me, so we can be even.”

Dean looks over her tired looking pack. “Yeah,” he finally says. “I get that. Are you going to keep tracking the Alpha? She did get away, even though we managed to kill most of her wolves.”

Madison sighs. “I think so. We might stay here for a while. Lick our wounds, recruit any wolves that come along needing a home. But I’m not getting that bitch get away with killing my family.” Madison bares her teeth for a second, and Dean fights the urge to take a step back. “So we’ll track them, but we won’t engage again.”

“Okay.” Dean hesitates, but then continues. “There’s a fight coming up. I think that we’re going to need all of the back-up we can get.”

“Yeah?” Madison asks, interested. “That would be a good way to get even.”

Dean nods. “I thought so. It’s getting closer every day,” he says.

Madison bites her lip. “Okay. Call me when this fight is about to happen.”

Dean nods, and Madison turns, heading back to her pack. They all gather around her before following her, disappearing into the woods. Garth waits for a second at the edge of the woods, before waving to them and then following his new family into the darkness. Dean sighs and doesn’t head back to Sam and Charlie, helping Victor and Annie find wood for the fire instead. By the time they have enough fuel to burn all of the bodies, the sky is lightening and the sun is about to rise. They start the fire and the smoke is hidden by the sunrise. They stay until they know that the fire will consume all of the evidence, so that nothing is left behind, and then slowly make their way back to where they had left their vehicles. It’s a long walk, made slower by Jo’s limp.

The trees thin, and Dean feels his shoulders loosen. Charlie is leading the party, and she freezes, hand going to the gun at her side. Dean immediately moves in front of her, ready to confront whatever is causing her worry.

He halts in disbelief for a second at the sight before him. “It’s okay,” he reassures Charlie, who probably hasn’t realised who it is in the low light.

Anna is sprawled out on the hood of the Impala, her read hair forming a halo around her head. Her eyes are closed, and Dean doesn’t think that she’s breathing, but he can’t see any visible wounds or blood, so he’s going to say that she’s alright. That’s until he realises that her shirt is meant to be white, not red.

“Anna?” He yells, making his way over to her. She moves slightly at the sound, and he lets out a breath, relieved that she isn’t dead.

Dean doesn’t touch her, merely standing by her side and trying to assess the damage that he can see. “Anna?” He asks again, keeping his voice soft. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” she says, her face twisting in pain. “I hear you. Is Castiel here?”

Dean hesitates. “No, he isn’t here.”

Anna looks panicked for a second. “I have to tell him something.”

“Hey, it’s okay, you can tell me,” Dean replies, frantically motioning for Sam to get the bigger first aid kit out of the Impala’s boot. His brother quickly moves towards it. “Or better yet, you can tell him yourself. We’re headed back to where he is right now. It can wait until you’re safe.”

“No, it cannot,” Anna replies, voice rough. She coughs, grimacing, before continuing. “I was imprisoned, and I heard the announcement. Heaven knows where Raziel’s Sword fell.”

Dean feels a shock. He wonders for a moment if Cas heard the message before focusing on the angel in front of him.

Anna coughs again, and blood splatters onto the hood of the Impala. Dean shifts his weight from foot to foot, not knowing what to do. Jo comes up and slips her hand into the angel’s, giving her support.

“Where?” Annie asks, intent on the answer.

“It is not near here. The state of Idaho,” she says, before closing her eyes.

“Anna!” Jo exclaims. “Anna, please.”

“The town of Soda Springs,” she whispers. “There’s an island in the reserve near there. That is where the Sword fell.”

Dean feels his stomach drop. He knows where Soda Springs is, and having the exact knowledge of where the Sword is, this thing that’s taken over his life for the last few years, ever since Alastair kidnapped him and turned his life upside down.

“We’ve got to get her somewhere safe where we can take care of her,” Sam says, worry written all over his face.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “We’re going back to the Roadhouse, but everyone else, you go back to Phoenix. I’m going to need your help, but not yet, and we don’t want the FBI starting a real hunt for all of us. It’s easier for me to hide by myself rather than everyone having to hide, okay? I’ll call when it’s time, but before that, just act normally.”

No one looks happy, but Dean can see that they all understand why he’s doing this. There are slow nods around the circle of gathered people, and everyone moves back to their cars, more than ready to get to a place of safety. Charlie stays though.

“Charlie, don’t,” Dean warns already knowing what she’s going to say.

She sets her jaw stubbornly. “I’m coming with you.”

Dean sighs. He would argue, but Anna needs help now, and he can see Jo getting into Ellen’s car. “Fine,” he says, and Charlie smiles at him.

Dean looks down at Anna, who doesn’t move, and Dean exchanges a look with Sam over her.

“You get in the back, and I’ll pass her to you, then you look after while I drive, yeah?”

Sam nods and slides inside the car. Dean gently picks up Anna and passes her to his brother, who handles her carefully.

Charlie is already sitting in the passenger seat, looking anxiously at Anna and Sam. Dean turns the key, and the engine hums to life. He follows the other cars that are going down the bumpy track, trying to avoid the worst of the potholes so that Anna isn’t bounced around too much. She still makes small, hurt sounds though, and Dean grits his teeth so that he won’t respond to them. Sam is patching her up, at least until they get somewhere that’s more stable. It’ll have to do for now.

They have a place, a definite place. Dean takes a deep breath and tries to shut down his thoughts and feelings. He can feel everything looming in the distance, coming closer and closer and closer, like the dust storms that overtake Phoenix sometimes, looming and towering over everything that Dean holds dear.

He shivers, and keeps on driving, heading towards the dust cloud.


	17. Last Night On Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, sorry for the break! I hope that everyone had a nice Christmas, and you all enjoy the New Year celebrations :D

Castiel sighs, swirling the water around in his glass. He’s tempted to ask Ellen for something alcoholic, but he refuses to let Dean drive him to that after what had happened last time.

“You gonna be fine?” The older woman asks him, concern in her eyes.

Castiel nods. “Yes, Ellen. Thank you for asking,” he says, because humans thank each other for their concern, even when Ellen’s is slightly stifling right now. She’s been standing behind the bar for the last two hours, after Dean had stormed out and Castiel had sat down where he is sitting now.

“You’ll get through it,” she tells him. “Everyone has relationship issues every now and again.”

“But this is…” Castiel trails off.

“The first time you’ve fought with him?” Ellen finishes, one eyebrow raised. Castiel nods slightly, looking down at the glass in his hands, fighting not to look at the door that Dean had slammed after him.

Ellen finishes wiping up the glass that’s in her hands and puts it down on the counter with a sigh. “You’ll work things through. Dean has a good heart.”

Castiel runs his hand through his hair and wonders how it all went so wrong.

~*~*~*~

Dean gets out of the Impala and goes to help Sam with Anna. The red haired angel waves off his help but leans on Sam and Charlie. Sam has bandaged up her stomach, but her shirt still has dried blood on it. They’ve arrived in the peak of the night, so Dean has parked near the back entrance so they can try to avoid the attention of the regular patrons. The hunters may not question the blood, but Dean doesn’t want Ellen’s normal customers to avoid the Roadhouse.

He sees Cas putting some plates down in front of some customers for the brief second he can see through the window. Cas jerks slightly and looks around but by the time his eyes go to where the group had been standing, they’re already past the window.

They’ve left Ellen and Jo behind, Dean stopping for nothing but gas. He’d driven the entire way, and his eyes are heavy and his back has a kink in it from the long trip. Charlie and Sam had taken turns to watch over Anna while the other got some sleep, so neither of them are in as bad a condition as Dean is.

He opens the back door and Charlie helps Anna into the building. He leads them to the panic room, only just remembering that it’s warded against angels before Charlie walks in.

“Wait,” Dean says, and Charlie pauses. He gets his angel blade out and cuts the back of his arm, and uses the blood to smear the ward. He feels it dissolve around them, and then motions for Charlie and Anna to come in. Sam isn’t far behind them, with more medical supplies, and he immediately starts to check over the angel’s injuries.

“How’s it going?” Charlie asks Anna softly. Anna smiles weakly at her, and sighs softly.

“Well, I could have managed without the stab wound in my stomach, but other than that, I’m fine. Dean, where is Castiel?”

“I’ll go grab him,” Dean says. “He’s out in the restaurant, working.”

Dean ducks around to the main part of the building, waiting until he catches Cas’s eye. Cas widens his eyes and immediately puts down the food that he’s carrying, and then comes over to Dean.

“Dean, the angels –”

“I know,” Dean says. “Anna told us.”

“Anna?” Cas says, stunned. “Where is she?”

“In the panic room,” Dean replies, and Cas is pushing past him before he can say anything else. He hurries after him, but Cas is basically running down the halls, and Dean is tired.

When he comes to the doorway of the panic room, he can hear Cas’s low rumble of a voice and Anna’s higher pitched one. He pushes the door open to find Cas kneeling near Anna’s head where she’s resting, and Sam attempting to stitch up the gash on Anna’s stomach for the fifth time. The strands of the thread keep breaking apart, and when she’d been lucid, Anna had told them it was because of the Grace in the wound.

“… escaped, but it was no easy task. Remmael was one of my guards, and I had to kill him to get out of the prison ward. Beriel was the one who injured me. Castiel, things have happened since you left. I heard about that – Zachariah was extremely angered by your disappearance. He threatened me, saying that I must know where you had gone, but I honestly had no idea. The demons found the other half of Raziel’s key, and that’s most likely why they have not moved upon the island where the Sword is. They know that the first layer of the shield cannot come down without it, and they are planning their move so that they will be able to have the shield down on their terms, not the angels.”

“But they cannot take the Sword without Dean? Did you hear anything of what they are planning on that end?”

Anna purses her mouth. “I know that the angels planned to first find the Sword and then find Dean. With the Sword found, all of the energies will now be focused on the Righteous Soul.” Her eyes find Dean in the doorway. “I would advise against doing anything that would draw attention. The angels will notice it, and they will find you.”

Dean nods sharply, and Anna’s attention turns back to her brother. “I do not know about the demons. Perhaps they think that if they can find where the Sword is, get close enough to it, they can take all of the surrounding materials to gain the Sword?”

“Perhaps,” Cas says softly. “Anna, you should rest. Your Grace is still severely injured.”

“You can still see that?” Anna asked, surprised. Cas nods, and she lets out a breath. “Very well. But you should start preparing for an incursion. We are the ones who have to make the final, deciding move, and we will make it with him.” Anna nods at Dean, and Dean feels a touch of unease at being referred to as such.

Cas doesn’t say anything in response, but he does stand up. Charlie follows him out the door, but Dean waits for Sam. Even as he’s closing off the final stitches, Dean can see the ones at the beginning starting to break apart.

Anna has her eyes closed, and Dean isn’t sure if she’s asleep or not, but he’s not going to disturb her. Sam seems to have the same idea, because he packs up the supplies and silently leaves. Dean closes the door after him, and follows Sam down the hall. They pause at the entrance to the restaurant, where Cas is serving again, but he has a worried look to his face, and he isn’t smiling. Jo and Ellen haven’t made it back yet, but Bill is waving them over from where he’s standing behind the bar.

“I’ll fill him in,” Sam says, going over to murmur with Bill. Dean uses the time to watch Cas as he walks around.

Cas hadn’t talked to him besides trying to tell him about the angels, hadn’t looked at him while he’d been talking to Anna. While he wants to reason that off as being near a sibling he hasn’t seen in months, he knows that that’s not the case. Cas could have at least looked at him, could have lingered in the hallway to talk, but he hadn’t. Dean sighs. The angel is mad, and he can’t really bring himself to blame him.

He watches Cas walk around, and even though he must know that Dean is there, he doesn’t glance in his direction.

Dean rests against the doorframe, in no mood to move. The patrons gradually trickle out, and nearly two hours after they had come in, Ellen and Jo pull up outside the Roadhouse. Bill looks happy to see them, and both women immediately go over to him when they enter. Soft words are exchanged, and Dean surmises that they’re making sure that everything went alright in the time that they’d been gone. Then Ellen seems to launch into an account of what happened, and Cas comes over to listen to it. Sam still hasn’t come out, and Dean thinks that he’s checking on Anna, or is asleep.

He goes back to the panic room to find Sam in the doorway, watching Anna silently. He draws his brother away from her and back into the main room, where Ellen is ushering everyone out of the restaurant, despite the early hour. With everyone helping to clean up, it’s all done quickly, and they can gather around a table to talk about what Anna had told them.

After Ellen finishes her story of what went down, Dean picks up, talking about their next move. He tries not to feel anything when Cas won’t look at him.

“The angels are as of now, contained in a small area, with few people around. The longer we wait, the more chance there is of the fighting getting out of hand and the small area that it’s in becoming a very large area that could hurt hundreds of people. We need to move as soon as possible.”

There are nods, and Dean continues, rubbing his eyes to try and keep his growing tiredness at bay. “As well as the fact that only the angels are currently at the site. Anna said that they’re trying to keep it secret form the demons, but I don’t think that that’s going to last for long, so we should be prepared for demons fighting angels when we get there. We need to call in all of the firepower that we can, and we need all the back-up that we can get. I’m sure that there’s more weird shit going on in that town than what’s on the news, but I’m also sure that someone’s covering it up, so we shouldn’t have to deal with people coming to see what’s going on, just the people of the town, who are probably smart enough to stay away.” Dean pauses as the door opens and Anna walks in. Cas immediately goes over to talk with her quietly, probably trying to tell her that she needs to rest more than she needs to talk to everyone, but she shakes her head and Cas reluctantly helps her over to sit on one of the stools in front of the bar.

“Anna, you shouldn’t be out here,” Ellen says, and Anna shrugs.

“You need to hear what I heard while in prison. If I die of my wounds tonight without passing that information on, I’ve failed. You all need to hear it.”

“What did you hear?” Bill asks.

Anna sighs quietly. “Dean did a good job of summing up what we need to do now. Our best chance of retrieving the Sword will be after the demons have unlocked the first shield and Heaven and Hell are occupied with each other. Dean will have to sneak in and we will have to distract them even further with a third side in their fight. All of the hunters that you have will be needed to fight.”

“You keep saying Dean will have to grab the Sword, but what does that mean?” Charlie says.

“It means that –”

“Anna.”

Anna looks over at Cas. He shakes his head slightly and she sighs softly.

“Castiel,” she says, and Dean can hear the softness of the tone, and wonders at it. “You knew that this was coming.”

“No,” he says, firmly. He looks at Charlie and continues. “The objective of this will not be to have Dean retrieve the Sword, but will be to retrieve the key from the demons before they have the chance to use it. We will then hide the key, and with neither side able to unlock the first layer of the shield, they will look for the key, and not Dean.”

Dean narrows his eyes at the differing plans. Around the circle of people, the others are also looking confused.

“Castiel, you know that that is not the most efficient plan.”

“It’s the plan that keeps Dean alive,” Cas says determinedly, and Dean can’t really argue with that.

“It’s the plan that fails,” Anna rebuts. “There is no chance of it working.”

“It can if we plan it right,” Cas stubbornly returns.

“It will not work.”

“It will.”

“Okay!” Dean says loudly over the top of the two of them. “Anna, Cas. I was under the impression that we needed to get the Sword to stop the fighting?”

“Yes, we do,” Anna says at the same time that Cas says, “No, we don’t.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Cas, why don’t you want me to get the Sword?”

“You know,” Cas hisses at him. Dean purses his mouth and looks away while the others start asking questions.

“Why?” Charlie asks.

“What’s going on that you aren’t telling us?” Bill says.

“What will happen if Dean gets the Sword?” Ellen asks.

“Dean? What is it?” Jo is the only one to ask him, and Dean flashes a quick smile at her.

“Cas is just worried about what he thinks will happen if I touch the Sword,” Dean mutters quietly to her. Cas must hear it though, because he replies before Jo has the chance to say anything.

“It’s not a thought – I _know,_ ” Cas assures.

There’s a silence. Anna is looking at Cas, and she sighs quietly.

“We will talk about this in the morning. Castiel, will you come with me, please? Everyone else, you should get some sleep. We will have a more detailed discussion in the morning, when everyone is rested and ready to think clearly.” She looks at Cas when she says the last sentence, and Dean can’t help a swift smile as everyone moves to do what she says. The way that Anna just assumed authority meant that she got it, and Dean puts it down to leading a garrison of angels for a few millennia.

After everyone is gone except Dean, Cas and Anna, Dean moves over to the angel and former angel. Cas is looking at anything that isn’t Anna or Dean, and Anna only has eyes for Cas. There’s pity in them, and Dean can’t help but wonder at it. After all, if what Cas had said, all those months ago, is true, it’s him that’s going to die. Perhaps it’s only because Anna and Cas are brother and sister, and it’s because Anna is feeling for her brother, who she’s closer to, rather than Dean himself. Dean wouldn’t blame her for it.

Dean thinks back to what Cas had said to him – that his soul would be completely used up in the ritual to retrieve the Sword. He knows that Cas doesn’t want him to do this, but he needs to accept that it’s something that Dean needs to do.

“Dean, Castiel will come to you later. I wish to speak with him about something before then. Alone,” Anna adds, as if Dean needs anything else to tell that he’s not wanted. He nods, brushing his hand along Cas’s as he walks towards the door that leads to his bedroom.

He gets ready to sleep as slowly as he can, wanting to talk to Cas before they’re in bed, but the angel doesn’t show. Dean waits for half an hour, but when it becomes clear that Cas isn’t coming back anytime soon, he slides under the covers himself and tries to go to sleep. It doesn’t come easily, like always, but he still drifts off before Cas comes in.

When Dean wakes up, shaking slightly from a dream, Cas is curled up in on himself on the other side of the bed. Dean watches him for a while before he gets out of bed and takes a shower. There’s already movement around the restaurant, and Dean heads out to the main room.

There aren’t any customers around, because the Roadhouse doesn’t serve breakfast. Ellen and Charlie are eating, however, discussing something lowly over their cereal. Sam is on the laptop, clicking around on some sites, probably looking up Soda Springs and the island that’s in the reserve there. Dean takes a deep breath in and goes to find some food to eat.

By the time he comes back in, Jo is up as well, sitting with her mother. Charlie has migrated over to sit next to Sam, and Dean sits down next to her. Charlie looks up at him and smiles slightly.

“Hey Dean,” she greets.

“Morning,” Dean replies.

“Cas and Anna up yet?”

“Cas was still sleeping when I left,” Dean replies, starting his food. “Dunno about Anna.”

Charlie nods, and then addresses Sam. “What are you doing on that computer?”

“Just looking up the place,” Sam mutters. Dean looks at his brother’s soggy cereal, forgotten at Sam’s elbow.

Just as Dean finishes eating, Charlie turns to him. “So what was Cas and Anna talking about yesterday? You looked like you knew what it was.”

Dean sighs. “I should probably talk it through with Cas before telling you,” Dean says. “But basically, when he was telling me all about this a few months ago, he told me that if I did the whole thing to get the Sword while Michael possessed me, he’d use my soul up as extra juice to power up the entire thing.”

“Damn,” Charlie says. Sam’s eyebrows are lowered, and he leans across the table slightly.

“While Michael had control of you, though, right? It’ll be fine if you do it yourself?”

Dean shrugs slightly, and leans back onto two chair legs. “I don’t know. But I think Cas thinks that if I touch the Sword at all, then my soul will get sucked up for energy.”

There’s a sombre silence at the table.

Anna and Cas walk through the door coming from the back. Cas still looks worried, like he thinks that Anna shouldn’t be up and tiring herself out, which is something that Dean agrees with. She looks alright though, with only a slight paleness to her, and Dean hopes that that means that she’ll be fine.

Dean gets up to go and help Anna sit down. She accepts the help, but only because Dean won’t let her do it by herself. Cas sits down opposite her and Dean sits down on the third chair between them.

“Did you eat anything yet?” Dean asks Cas. He shakes his head and Dean resists the urge to sigh. “You should,” he just says, and Cas nods, probably brushing the thought off, focusing on his sister.

“Castiel, we need to discuss what is going to happen with Dean, so he can make his own choice in the matter.”

Cas’s jaw clenches, and Dean already knows that this isn’t going to be a good conversation.

“Dean, you cannot retrieve the Sword. I’ve already told you that it will drain your soul of all of its energy, and ultimately will kill you. We need to get the key before the demons use it, so that they can’t unlock the first shield to get to the Sword.”

“That’s not going to work, Castiel,” Anna says. “First of all we have no idea when the demons will launch their attack. And we do not know which demon will be holding the key. The angels will be fighting to get it as well as stop the demons. And the key only needs to touch the shield to be activated, so it can be used very quickly. And when we are left in the middle of the battle with no way to get out, and having failed to get to the key before it is used, the angels and demons will then be fighting over _Dean_. And whichever side gets to him first will be the one to ultimately control Raziel’s Sword, and tip the balance between the spheres.”

There’s silence as Cas stares down his sister and Dean goes over both their points in his head. Sure, he doesn’t want to die, but if it meant having a chance at getting the Sword out… Well he doesn’t see much of an option. He has to do it, and whatever Cas has to say about that doesn’t matter, because it’s the only option that Dean can see that’s open to him.

“Cas…” Dean says softly. Cas looks at him, and he must see something in his eyes, because he goes pale and starts shaking his head.

“No. Dean, you cannot be considering her plan.”

“Cas, it’s better than yours. She does have a point. Yours isn’t going to work.”

Cas sucks in a breath and then lets it out slowly.

“See, Castiel? Dean agrees with me.”

“I haven’t exactly heard your plan in detail,” Dean says.

“Of course,” Anna replies. “What will happen is that we will gather all of the humans that we can, and will use them as a diversion as you enter deeper into the woods to gain access to the barrier. We will only start an assault after the demons have lowered the first shield, and thus you will be able to enter the barrier with no one else able to follow you. You will find Raziel’s Sword, say the ritual to bind the Sword to you and then you will come out to destroy whatever angels and demons remain on the island. This means that the Sword is out of either of their grasps, and the balance between them that’s been occurring will continue.”

“She’s leaving out the part where trying to claim the Sword kills you,” Cas says flatly.

“We don’t know that it will,” Anna tells him. “Dean could come out unscathed.”

“The Sword works by channelling energy straight from the Grace or soul, Anna,” Cas says. “It is why it is so powerful. Dean has a potent soul, but he will not be able to sustain any drain for long.”

Anna purses her mouth. “Castiel, even if Dean does die,” at this she casts a reassuring look at Dean, “They will not be able to complete the ritual themselves until another Righteous Soul is born, which could take another few hundred years. So our goal will be reached anyway, because neither will be able to claim the Sword.”

 _So if you fail spectacularly, it doesn’t_ really _matter. You just die. How comforting._

Cas’s eyes have grown cold, and his jaw is still clenched.

“I value Dean’s life more than that,” Cas says, and Anna nods.

“I know. That is the problem. You cannot see past him. I should think that it’s Dean’s decision, no? Dean, what do you think?”

Cas and Anna look to him simultaneously.

Dean looks down at his hands before answering. “I think that Anna’s right, Cas. We need to get the Sword.”

Cas blinks, and Anna nods slowly. “It is Dean’s decision, Castiel.”

Cas doesn’t look away from Dean. “Dean, rethink this. It is most likely that the Sword will use up all of your soul’s energy before you can do anything with it. You will die pointlessly.”

“You’ve got no proof, Cas. Only guesses. I can do what I want, and I want to follow Anna’s idea.”

“You cannot do this,” Cas tells him lowly, not breaking eye contact between them.

“What the hell, Cas?” Dean says, standing up. “You don’t have that kind of say over my life.”

“I was the one who healed your soul and _saved_ your life! I feel like I have _some_ say in it,” Cas argues back. He stands up as well, and Dean takes a step towards him, standing in his personal space. He can feel the others start to pay attention to him, but he ignores them.

“Yeah, well it’s still my life, and I can do what I want with it.”

“Not when your choices are clearly suicidal!”

“We don’t know that, Cas! You only think that that might happen!”

“All the evidence points to that happening, Dean!”

“Even if we knew for sure that I was going to die if I tried to get the Sword, I would still do it, Cas. I would still do it. Like Anna says, it’s our best chance at keeping the balance between Heaven and Hell.”

Cas takes a step back and Dean sees the hurt and confusion on his face before his mask comes back in full force, shutting down Cas’s emotions and hiding them from Dean and everyone else.

“Cas…” Dean starts, squirming as he realises that that probably wasn’t the best way to say it.

“You don’t mean that,” Cas says softly. “You wouldn’t leave me after what I’ve done for you.”

Dean grits his teeth, and he feels his shoulders come up defensively. “Yeah, well, some things are bigger than you, Cas. Are bigger than me, are bigger than everyone. This is one of those things.”

Dean turns around and stomps towards the door. He pushes past Charlie and Sam, who look shocked, and slams the front door behind him, fumbling for the keys to the Impala. He gets in and shuts the door, putting his forehead on the steering wheel and taking a few deep breaths.

He just needs some time to clear his mind. Yeah, that’s it.

He ignores the feeling in his chest and drives out onto the street.

~*~*~*~

Dean comes back into the parking lot slowly, only the fact that he hadn’t taken his wallet with him stopping him from spending the night at a hotel somewhere. He turns his baby off and sits in the dark, trying to calm down. He sucks in a breath and breathes it out slowly, feeling the tension seep from him as he does so. Leaning back against the chair, he closes his eyes to block the light coming from inside the bar.

Cas is just worried about him. Cas is still getting used to being human and the limitations that come along with that. He’s just freaking out because he can’t use his powers to defend Dean anymore. It’s just a hyped up version of what Dean feels for everyone around him. Cas just needs to understand that Dean has been hunting for the majority of his life, and that he can handle himself.

Okay, so angels and demons in a giant battle together with Dean throwing himself into the centre may not be the norm, but still. Dean can take care of himself.

He gets out of the Impala and starts walking towards the building, his hands in his pockets. There aren’t any people in the bar, and everything has already been packed up for the night. Dean winds his way through the room, turning the lights off when he passes them.

He opens his door slowly, standing in the doorway when he sees the body huddled under the covers. He can see a few strands of Cas’s mess of dark hair, but not much else.

Dean rubs his hands on his jeans for a few seconds before stripping the outer layer of his clothes off. Standing in just his boxers, he slowly lifts the covers and slides down beside Cas. The angel looks troubled even in sleep, his face lined. Something twists in Dean to see that, and he hesitantly wraps an arm around the angel to pull him closer.

Cas sighs and opens his eyes. They look at each other for a minute, neither speaking.

“Sorry for storming out like that,” Dean says, the apology grating his throat, but he says it anyway, knowing that he had been wrong to do that.

Cas looks away from him. “I am still… getting used to this, Dean.”

“I know, I know,” Dean reassures him softly. “I get it.”

Cas starts rubbing his hands together in different ways, a sure sign of nervousness, even if the angel doesn’t know that. “It just feels wrong to not be able to protect you.”

Dean fights off a frown. “I can take care of myself, Cas. I don’t need you looking over my shoulder, ready to fight my battles. There’s a reason that they’re mine.”

“I do not like it,” Cas grouses.

“That’s humanity,” Dean tells him, voice quiet. “You put up with things you don’t like, because you can’t change them. You know I can fight with the sword that you gave me. You know that I can protect myself. You don’t need to worry.”

“Yes I do!” Cas growls. “It should never have come to this; I should have done something else to stop it.”

“Hey,” Dean rebukes. He tightens his arm and drags Cas towards him. “Don’t start that, Cas. It’s not healthy. Things are how they are, and we’ll work through it, no matter what happens. Don’t wish to change to past. Nothing good ever comes of it.”

Cas presses his head into the hollow of Dean’s throat and tightens his hands on Dean’s skin. Dean drags a hand up and down his back, trying to calm the shaking angel down.

“I’m here, Cas,” he tells him gruffly. He isn’t into the touchy feely stuff, but Cas is obviously freaking out, and he isn’t going to be a giant douche and push him away.

“It is too dangerous,” Cas says, stubbornly holding onto his argument. “You cannot do it.”

“I have to, Cas. I’m not gonna let Michael get a piece of me, and Alastair can go stab himself with a knife, because he’s not getting in here again either. It has to be me, because someone has to do it.”

“So I cannot veto you from doing something dangerous, even though you stopped me from coming to fight with Madison?”

Dean purses his lips and moves his head to frown at Cas. The angel is staring him down, eyes demanding an answer.

“Cas, I would have taken you along, but you were passed out, and I didn’t want to move you. I knew that the SPN unit were already in Oklahoma, and I knew we would have back up in the form of what was left of Madison’s pack. I wasn’t going in alone, and I knew that you aren’t fully up to speed on your whole human thing, so left you here.”

“Where I would be safe.” Cas’s voice has gone flat, and Dean looks away uneasily for a second before answering.

“Yeah,” he finally says, not wanting to go through the backlash of saying that, but knowing that it’s going to come anyway.

“And I cannot do the same with you?”

“It’s a different situation,” Dean pleads quietly.

“Yes. It is.” Cas’s face is unreadable, and he looks like when Dean first met him, nearly a year ago. “This is far more dangerous. As you say, in Oklahoma, I would have had the FBI, Madison’s pack, as well as you, Sam and Ellen. We would have been facing down werewolves, that can be killed in several ways, instead of angels and demons, who are much more powerful and who are much harder to kill. The werewolves would not have been going after me specifically, and they would not have the ability to teleport you away so that you have no allies, and be at the mercy of whichever side stole you. I would not have been going to try to claim something which would most likely kill me, even if I got to it in the first place. So yes, the situation is different. You will be in far more danger in any second than I would have been in at all if I had accompanied you to Oklahoma. I Fell to stop you from getting hurt in this conflict, Dean.” Cas’s eyes bore into him. “And not only do you leave me when I could help you fight, but you plan to make my sacrifice mean nothing. How can I trust that you will include me in future conflicts when you think that I am not ‘fully up to speed on my human thing?’ Will I ever be capable of taking care of myself, or will you always think that I am unable to defend myself?”

Dean swallows. He hasn’t really thought about what they would be facing when they got to the battle around the Sword, but Cas had just laid it out rather nicely. He knows how to reply to the angel’s words, but it takes him a few seconds to clear his throat.

“Cas. I know that you can kill anything that tries to hurt you, but you were… I dunno, larger than life when you were an angel. I _knew_ that nothing could hurt you, and I still worried. And now that you’re not an angel, I just worry more.” Dean sighs and twines his fingers through Cas’s hair. “I worry about everyone, not just you. Sam, Ellen, Jo, Bill, Charlie… Everyone that I know.” Dean pauses, trying to find the words that he needs. He’s never been good with them, and he swears internally at the lack of them. “But you’re… You and me… We’re…”

“Together? Closer?” Cas suggests. His eyes are thawing from the icy glare that Dean had been receiving.

“Together,” Dean says, taking his suggestion. “If I lost you…” His heart squeezes and everything in him riots at the thought. He can’t lose Cas. He _can’t._

Cas lets out a breath. “I’m human now, Dean. I’ve accepted that. You need to accept it as well.”

“I know,” Dean mumbles. “I know, but it’s hard.” _I love you,_ he wants to say, but he can’t make his mouth form the words. He tightens his hold on Cas, hoping that the angel gets the message that way.

He takes a few deep breaths before he answers the rest of Cas’s question. “The stakes will be far higher when we go to get the Sword, Cas. In Oklahoma, we were just trying to help Madison escape from the Alpha’s grasp. If we had failed there, it would have been sad, yes, but overall, there would be little difference in the world. If we don’t go to Idaho, then much, much more will be lost. You know better than any of us what would happen if either Heaven or Hell gets their hands on it. You were the one who laid it all out for us. We need the Sword, Cas, and I’m the only one of us who can get it.”

Cas lets out a shuddering breath, and Dean can almost see the stubbornness leave him and fear fill him.

“I don’t want you to go,” he whispers.

“I know,” Dean says softly into his hair. “I don’t want to either. But I have to, Cas. I have to.”

Cas holds him tightly the entire night, and Dean returns the grip just as fiercely.

~*~*~*~

Cas and Anna band together after that. Cas writes down the words of the ritual, and Anna coaches him through the correct pronunciation and cadence of the words. It’s not work that he’s very comfortable with, being more like the type of thing that Sam can memorise easily. His brother helps – after Dean’s assured him that he’s apologised to Cas – by getting him water and listening to him swear when he stumbles over some of the words. Sam learns it just by listening to Dean say it over and over again, and he helps when Dean stumbles over the Enochian.

Dean knows what most of it means – the words that he’s learning are an ancient song, created by Raziel when the archangel forged his Sword. It was something that all seven of the archangels did, which made the Sword personalised to them. The archangel Sophia was the one who came up with the design for the rest of the angels when they were created, but of all the archangels, even Michael and Lucifer, Raziel was the first one to craft his Sword. He had sung the song that Dean is learning, while forging it out of stardust and Righteousness (however you did that), and the words had been part of the crafting process. The entire thing takes about four minutes to recite, and Dean is struggling through it, memorising it one sentence at a time.

While Dean is stuck in the back rooms of the Roadhouse trying to commit ancient Enochian to memory, the rest of the hunters are organising people who they could trust who are also willing to fight against creatures they had no way of killing as a distraction so that Dean could maybe get past all of the angels and demons and get the Sword that they probably don’t believe in. It’s a tall order, but by the end of the week, Ellen has a list of people who are willing to put their lives on the line.

Dean doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want any people coming into the entire mess, and he thinks that if he sneaks in by himself, with no one else, there’s a higher chance of him succeeding. He doesn’t need more lives on his conscience.

Anna and Cas, however, disagree. They both think that the more chaos there is, the more chance there is of Dean getting to where the Sword had set up it’s perimeter unharmed. Everyone but Dean seems to agree with them, and he’s come to the conclusion that he’s not going to be able to get away without them coming after him. They’re all determined to accompany him, no matter what he has to say on the matter.

The Roadhouse’s rooms gradually fill up until there’s no more space. Tamara and Isaac are here, as well as Jo and Charlie needing a place to stay. Cas and Dean stay in his room, and Sam in his, but he moves to one of the rooms that has two beds in it when Bobby arrives, making sure that the older hunter knows that Sam isn’t moving back in there. Bobby takes it, but not without complaining. Caleb arrives as well, and he takes up the other bed in Sam’s new room. The SPN unit haven’t arrived yet, although Dean knows that all of them are planning on coming up when they actually have a time for their attack.

After making sure that the transcript that Dean is reading from is correct, Anna doesn’t spend much time around the Roadhouse. When she does, it’s either with Cas or with Jo, and what time she does spend around Dean is taken up with her coaching him through some of the more difficult sections of the speech. When she isn’t around the Roadhouse, she’s trying to keep tabs on what’s happening around Raziel’s Sword and the angels that are surrounding it, trying to get in without the key or Dean. It’s hopeless, but they’re still trying, and Anna says that it’s good that they are, because when they stop, it will be because all of their attention has turned towards finding Dean.

Another week passes, slower than cold molasses. Dean gradually wraps his tongue and mind around the song, although there’s still one part that’s troubling him. He also works to get him and Cas back on track, even though the former angel probably thinks that everything is fine. He works on the trust between them, and he can feel it as their bond deepens day by day.

By the time Anna comes in one day, looking worried, Dean is more than ready to get the entire thing started. Just by looking at her, he smiles slightly, imagining that her wings are probably as ruffled as her hair. Thinking that gives him pause. What colour are her wings? What colour was Cas’s wings? He shakes the questions off as unimportant, listening to Anna instead.

“The demons have decided to make their move. They are currently attacking the angelic forces that are guarding the Sword, and the surprise of it means that they’ve been pushed back. I would think it likely that the demons get to the shield within a few hours and as soon as they’re there, they should unlock it. Alastair is there, leading the raid, but I could smell Azazel’s stink around. They are probably hoping that when they take the shield down Dean will appear to go inside. They most likely have a plan to capture him when he arrives.”

“So it’s a trap,” Dean says, frowning.

“This is why we need all of the humans that we can gather,” Cas tells him. “Most of the less powerful beings there won’t be able to read your soul to figure out which human is the one they want, so the more humans there are, the better our chances of getting Dean to the shield.”

“When would be the best time to move?” Sam asks.

“As soon as possible,” Anna answers. “Call your friends – we will need their help.”

Sam nods and goes to fish his phone out of his pocket.

“So should we aim to leave tomorrow morning?” Bill asks, looking thoughtful. “The others can fly up.”

Cas and Anna nod. Cas is looking worried, but as everyone else trickles into the main room and are told about what’s happening, there’s mostly only firm resolve on everyone’s faces. They’ve had over two weeks to prepare, and they’re more than ready to face what’s coming. Dean wants to feel that way – he wants to be as assured as Ellen, giving out orders calmly, wants to be as confident as Tamara and Isaac, firm in the belief that they’d come out of this in one piece because of the faith they have in each other, wants to be as calm as Anna, who looks like she’s already accepted everything that’s about to happen. Instead he feels adrift, cut off from his family and friends, and not ready at all to face the upcoming battle.

He feels a hand touch his gently, and he looks over at Cas. He’s smiling in that way of his, eyes crinkling at the corners, and there’s reassurance in his eyes. Dean just wants to lean down against him and wail ‘ _It’s not fair’_ at the roof, but it’s not going to change anything that has to happen. As if he can hear what Dean’s thinking, Cas takes his hand and drags him to a dark corner, where they’re not going to be noticed unless someone comes looking for them. Dean rests his head against Cas’s shoulder and takes a deep breath.

“We are going to succeed, Dean,” Cas tells him softly. “You are going to remember the song, and retrieve the Sword. Do not stress about what is coming.”

Dean looks over to where Ellen is saying that they’d leave in the morning. The SPN unit is already on a plane, and they’re going to meet them tomorrow. Anna has disappeared for the moment, and Dean wonders if she’s looking at the situation on the island.

“I dunno if we’re ready, Cas,” Dean admits.

“We’re ready,” Cas says.

Dean links his arms around him and sighs.

~*~*~*~

“To us,” Ellen says, and everyone clinks their glasses together. Dean throws back his shot while Cas lifts an eyebrow at the apple juice that he had poured into his shot glass.

“Amen to that,” Dean says, and there’s a chorus of agreement from around the circle.

While the rest of the group keep pouring glasses, Dean has something else to occupy his thoughts. Cas has turned to talk with Charlie, but with a bump of his shoulder, the angel’s attention turns to him.

“Yes, Dean?” Cas asks. Charlie looks at him as well, which makes Dean slightly self-conscious, but not enough to back off.

“So… There’s a chance that this could be our last night on earth,” he starts, and Charlie raises her eyebrows at him.

“Yes, there is,” Cas replies solemnly. Charlie rubs a hand over her mouth, but not before Dean sees the smile there.

“Yeah. So I was wondering if you’d like to make it memorable,” Dean continues. Charlie looks like she’s trying not to laugh now, and Cas is still not getting it.

“It already is, Dean. With everybody here, as well as the circumstances, this is not something that I’m going to forget.”

Dean leans over to whisper in his ear while running a hand down his leg. “That’s not the type of memorable I’m talking about.”

“Oh,” Cas says. He looks startled for a second before he stands up. “I would like that.” He turns to Charlie. “Good night Charlie. I believe that Dean is inviting me back to our room. Have a good night’s rest.”

“Thanks Cas,” Charlie says, voice wavering slightly as she nods at Cas and winks at Dean. Dean rolls his eyes but stands as well, catching Cas’s arm and leading him back towards the bedrooms.

“Shouldn’t we say good night to everyone else?” Cas says, eyebrows drawn together.

“We’ll see ‘em in the morning,” Dean tells him. Cas nods, and Dean locks his bedroom door behind them.

Cas is there when he turns around, and Dean kisses him softly, feeling Cas’s hand come up to cover his shoulder. He doesn’t try anything immediately, just savouring the touch of Cas under his hands. After having their argument, they hadn’t done anything in bedroom beside sleep next to each other, and Dean doesn’t want that to be the case when they roll out of here tomorrow. But that doesn’t mean that he needs to rush it, and so he keeps things simple.

Cas pulls back and Dean opens his eyes to stare at him. The angel slowly pulls his shirt up over his head, and Dean lifts his arms so that Cas can strip him of his shirts as well. They fall off his fingers, and then they’re stepping together again, and the kiss is deeper. Cas runs his hands over Dean’s back while Dean feels the soft skin of Cas’s stomach. Cas bites his lower lip and Dean groans at the sensation.

“Dean,” Cas murmurs. Dean has a hand on the back of his neck and one is gradually making its way downwards. Dean lifts his eyes to Cas’s.

“Yeah?” Dean asks, because Cas wants to say something, not just Dean’s name.

Cas stares at him silently for a few seconds, just long enough to make Dean start to get nervous. Then Cas’s eyes flick down and he licks his lips. “Will you… have sex with me?” He asks shyly, looking at Dean from lowered eyelids.

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean says, raising an eyebrow. “That’s why I brought you in here early.”

“No,” Cas starts, and then he blushes slightly. “Sex as in _sex_ , sex.”

“Oh,” Dean says quietly after a pause. “Cas –”

“I know about everything that happened in the past, Dean,” Cas tells him earnestly. “And we can go as slow as you like. But as you said, this could be the last time that we’re together, and I want to share this with you. We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I am open to the idea.”

Dean wets his lips. Cas is looking at him, eyes soft, and Dean knows that whatever he decides, Cas will go along with it. Dean leans their foreheads together and then nods slightly. “Yeah, Cas. I’d like that,” he says, and Cas smiles at him. “But I can’t…”

“I know,” Cas says. He kisses him again, quickly. “I don’t want that anyway.” He flushes slightly, red staining the tips of his ears. He leans over and whispers, low and deep into Dean’s ear. “I want to feel you inside me.”

Dean stares at him for a few seconds before the corner of his mouth twitches up. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

Their lips find their way back to each other and there’s purpose in their movements now. Cas steps backwards slowly and drags Dean down onto their bed. Dean doesn’t let his weight rest on Cas, supporting himself on his elbows instead of resting on the angel.

Cas hasn’t stopped kissing him, and Dean has to admit, that over the course of their relationship, he’d gone from a timid kisser to a very aggressive one. Cas licks into his mouth and Dean sucks on his tongue, feeling the rasp of Cas’s stubble. He doesn’t really like shaving, since he almost always manages to nick himself.

He can feel Cas starting to poke him in the stomach, but that’s fine, since he’s poking him right back. Except his jeans were never meant for this type of activity, and he makes the executive decision to take them off.

Of course, when he goes for Cas’s belt, the angel dives straight for Dean’s, although Dean makes it harder for him to take his off when Dean moves his head to start sucking at his neck. Cas’s startled gasp and sudden butterfingers on his belt make Dean smirk. Cas lifts his hips up so that Dean can free him of his belt and undo his button. Cas isn’t that far behind him, and Dean hears his own belt hitting the floor soon after that.

But when he goes to pull his jeans down and throw them away, he realises that they’re both still wearing their shoes. “Shit,” he mutters, and pulls Cas up so they’re sitting next to each other. He starts unlacing his boots, and Cas does the same, but he stops half way through to keep kissing Dean, and Dean has to kiss back because he can’t really deny Cas anything, but that means that hands don’t undo laces, going back to feeling the soft skin of Cas’s back. He hears one of Cas’s shoes hit the ground, and forcibly pulls himself away so he can yank both his boots and one of Cas’s off to chuck on the ground. Socks follow soon after, and Dean is too busy sucking hickeys onto Cas’s collarbones to shuck his jeans off. Cas gasps as Dean’s tongue flicks out over his pulse point, his hands tightening where they grip Dean’s skin.

“Hang on a second,” Dean mutters into his skin.

He rolls off the bed and stands up, legs shaking slightly. He kicks his pants off and goes to his bag, which had been sitting in the corner of his room for the last few weeks. He digs through the side pocket, coming up with a bottle of lube. He hears the rest of Cas’s clothes hitting the ground, and when he turns around, he’s lying on his back without a stitch of clothing on, chest rising and falling faster than his normal breaths usually come, legs planted so that his feet are flat on the bed and his knees are up in the air. Dean slowly crosses the room to stand next to the bed, finding Cas’s eyes and keeping them as he lowers himself onto the bed, reach up to kiss Cas, who welcomes him by kissing him back frantically.

Dean takes a deep breath and pops open the cap, squirting some of the gel onto his fingers and trying to stay calm and in control. The last time he did this it was on himself, and it was to go out to earn money for himself and Sam. Cas is looking at him with nothing but trust in his eyes, and Dean isn’t sure if he has earned that. Dean bites his lip as he closes the tube and lets it slip out of his hand, his fingers slick.

He touches Cas’s knee lightly and Cas lets his legs part easily. Dean lets out a shaky breath and slides up to kiss the angel. Cas kisses him gently, but Dean can feel the tension in his limbs and how he carries it in his shoulders.

“Relax,” he whispers softly against Cas’s mouth, letting their lips rub against each other. Cas’s eyes go wide when Dean starts rubbing his fingers over his entrance. “Relax for me, Cas.”

Cas swallows, and Dean makes soft, calming noises, kissing his nose and cheeks and jaw and lips. Dean can tell when Cas lets go, because the tension bleeds out of him and his hands come up to touch Dean’s back.

He pushes one finger in, just a little bit, to see how Cas takes it. The angel blinks a few times and some of the tautness returns to him, but Dean kisses it away, firmly resolved to take all the time they would need.

“That’s it,” Dean praises, as Cas relaxes around him. Fuck, he can feel it now.

He pushes in deeper, and Cas’s eyes slide closed. “Dean,” he whimpers softly, and Dean takes it as an encouragement. He kisses Cas one more time before sitting up slowly between his legs so he can see as Cas comes undone. He opens him up slowly, not rushing anything, simply watching Cas writhe and grip the sheets as Dean moves his fingers. He finally finds Cas’s prostate, judging by the way the angel suddenly spasms and half sits up, supporting himself on his elbows. He’s panting, and the blue of his eyes had turned into a darker hue, the black of his pupils overtaking the cerulean of his irises.

Dean kisses his knee softly, smiling as his toes flex, grabbing the sheets where they’re planted on the bed.

“Dean,” Cas gasps. “Get up here, or I will likely do something we will both regret.”

Dean scissors the three fingers inside him one more time before deciding that it should be enough. He pulls them out slowly, trying not to let the heat swirling in his gut as he watches his fingers slide out of Cas get to his head and make him do something crazy.

He wipes as much of the excess lube on himself as he can manage before wiping his fingers off on the sheets. Cas growls at him, and Dean happily crawls up him to get to his lips. Cas kisses him desperately, and Dean is more than willing to get lost in the heat of Cas’s mouth.

He pushes Cas’s legs up, and the angel willingly wraps them around him, his hips trying to thrust up against nothing. Dean lowers his weight, and they both groan as they both have something to rub up against. Cas starts muttering in Enochian, some words that Dean had learned, but most that hadn’t. He doesn’t try to translate them, simply rocking them together gently.

Cas tries to speed things up, but Dean calms his down by kissing him until he gasps for air when Dean breaks away. The angel is clearly more worked up than he is, his gasps and groans encouraging Dean to wriggle down so that he can slide his cock into the crease of Cas’s ass. Cas whines when the head of his dick catches on his rim but doesn’t slip inside like he wants it to.

“Please, Dean,” Cas says, voice rough and low. Dean kisses him again and then slides a hand down his side to grip his cock so he can guide it where they both want it to be.

Cas hisses as Dean presses inside him. Dean doesn’t rush things, pausing to let Cas get used to the sensation. After a minute passes, Cas tightens his legs and pulls Dean in further, Dean biting his lip to stop himself from pushing in all at once. Dean rests his head on Cas’s shoulder and tries to breathe as the tight heat surrounds his dick.

“You okay?” Dean asks him, voice rough. Cas has his eyes closed, and Dean doesn’t know if that’s good or bad.

Cas’s eyes flutter open and lock on Dean. “Yes,” he murmurs. “Feel full.”

“Yeah,” Dean replies quietly. Cas leans down and Dean tilts his head so they can kiss. Cas tilts his hips up and Dean slides all the way inside him, hips bumping. “Fuck,” Dean mutters, more to himself than Cas.

“I agree,” Cas says breathily, and Dean has to laugh. Cas looks confused for a second, like he doesn’t understand why Dean’s chuckling, but then one of his rare smiles breaks out across his face, and Dean takes a second to stare at it before it disappears. Dean takes a breath in and nuzzles into the soft skin of his neck, nipping at it lightly. He pulls out slowly and then pushes in, listening to Cas’s quiet inhale. He pushes in again, a bit faster, repeating the motion.

“I’m not going to break,” Cas murmurs to him. Dean looks at him and starts building up energy in the movements of his hips.

Cas isn’t quiet – he’s never been silent in bed. Dean supposes that it’s because he doesn’t have the social norms integrated into him since he’d been young. He’s always liked noise coming from his partner, and Cas never disappoints. Every time Dean pushes into him, Cas lets out a small whine, bucking up against Dean.

As things between them get hotter and hotter, Dean keep catching Cas’s eyes, only to have him throw his head back when Dean hits something inside him. Dean keeps pushing into him, watching as Cas comes undone, whining and groaning, hands trying to grasp something to hold onto on Dean’s back and then knotting in the sheets. Dean can’t keep in the groans that he’s making either, but really, he doesn’t want to. Dean reaches down between them to start jerking Cas, which makes the noise coming from the angel get even louder. He takes one of his hands off Cas’s hips to wind its way through his hair, and pull him down to kiss him, which Cas breaks when he gasps loudly, shaking and pushing back against Dean even faster.

“Dean, I’m –” Cas’s sentence is cut off with a low groan.

“Close?” Dean asks him, not saying anything else so that he can conserve what breathe he has left.

“Yes,” Cas pants.

“Okay,” Dean replies. He’s getting there himself, and can feel heat coiling in his stomach.

Cas’s nails scratch into his back as Cas tries to urge him closer. Cas pants into his ear and Dean moves one arm so that it’s around Cas, squeezing him tightly and biting his ear lobe gently while speeding his other hand up where he’s gripping Cas’s cock. Cas thrashes under him and Dean meets his mouth for a heated kiss. He must hit Cas’s sweet spot on his next roll of hips, because the angel sucks in a breath under him and his arms contract around where they’re holding Dean.

“Dean!” Cas cries out. He throws his head back and Dean’s hips fall out of rhythm as Cas tightens around him. Their movements spread Cas’s come between them as Dean follows Cas over the edge.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean gasps. He thrusts a final time into Cas and shudders as he comes. He slowly collapses onto Cas, feeling his head spin as they both come down from their high. Cas whooshes out a breath and Dean tries to work up the energy to roll off him. He gradually moves over to his side, both of them moaning when Dean slides out of Cas.

The sound of their panting is the only thing that fills the room, and even that fades away until only the quiet of the night remains. Dean could almost fall asleep right now, except for the fact that he can feel the stickiness on his stomach starting to set in. He sighs softly and looks over at Cas.

“Come on Cas,” Dean mumbles. “Have to get cleaned up. You’ve got spunk all over you.”

Cas looks like he wants to pass out right there, but Dean sits up and pulls on his boxers lethargically, passing Cas’s to him. Cas grumbles but stands when Dean goes around to pull him to his feet. And if Dean pulls him close to nuzzle up against him and maybe kiss him a little, well, who can blame him?

For once very glad that his room is only just down the hall from the bathroom, Dean leads the way, pulling a tired Cas behind him, their hands joined. He flicks the light on in the bathroom and turns the shower on. Cas leans on him while he adjusts the temperature, his arms wrapped around Dean’s waist.

Dean tugs Cas into the water when it’s warm, and isn’t surprised when he simply stands there, looking exhausted. Dean grabs the cloth and puts some soap on it before beginning to rub at the patches of white that he can see all over Cas.

“I can do that,” Cas rumbles.

“It’s fine,” Dean tells him. “I can tell you’re worn out.” He doesn’t try to stop the smirk that comes over his face.

Cas looks up at him and sees it. He lowers his eyebrows. “You are happy about that,” he comments, obviously trying to figure out why.

Dean shrugs. “It’s a compliment Cas. I know have proof that I can rock your world.”

A glint enters the angel’s eyes. “I see. And does that mean that because you stumbled over your own feet while you were walking up the corridor, I have definitive proof that _I_ can ‘rock your world?’”

Dean grins at him. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Cas takes the cloth from him and rubs it over the places that Dean can’t see. Dean grabs the other one and cleans himself up, even though there isn’t as much on him as Cas had gotten all over him.

When they’re done cleaning, they stand under the water. Dean’s arms are around Cas and Cas’s hands are on him. Dean finally reaches out to turn the water off when he’s fairly sure that the danger of both of them falling asleep right there is a fair risk.

Cas finds a towel for both of them and they hurry down the corridor to their room. Dean is sure that no one would be in this part of the building anyway, since he and Cas hadn’t fought to be quiet, but he’s sure that his family doesn’t need images to go along with sounds.

Cas pulls the covers up over them both when they’re back in the bed, and falls asleep quickly, his breathing deepening. Dean can’t help the soft smile that appears on his face when his angel starts snoring softly. He closes his eyes and cuddles closer to him, waiting to fall asleep as well.

It doesn’t come.

Dean sighs as he opens his eyes after some time has passed. An hour has gone by, and he’s still awake. He sighs softly, because if he doesn’t do anything, he won’t get to sleep. He’s spent enough sleepless nights in his apartment in Phoenix to know his own body.

Dean shifts slightly. Cas is pressed up against him, so he kisses Cas’s forehead before slowly getting out of the bed, trying not to wake him up. The angel moves slightly when Dean finally stands up, but doesn’t do anything beyond a small frown coming over his face. It hurts Dean to see it, but he turns his back anyway, picking up his clothes and putting them on.

He closes his door softly behind him, so that no one will walk in on Cas and wake him. Then he pads down the hallway towards the small kitchen, hoping that some alcohol will calm his restless nerves.

He isn’t expecting to see Sam sitting at the counter, but it doesn’t stop him from crossing to the fridge and taking out a beer. Sam already has one in front of him, but it looks warm, like he hasn’t touched it in a while. He has his computer up, and is looking over maps of the reserve, as if that could prepare them for the next day.

“Hey,” Dean says softly. “Stop that.” He slowly closes the laptop, and Sam doesn’t do anything to stop him.

“It’s just…” Sam doesn’t finish his sentence. Dean doesn’t know how it would have finished anyway.

“We’re prepared. We’ve got this, Sam. Don’t worry.”

Sam looks up at him and absent mindedly takes a sip of his beer. He grimaces at the taste, and Dean gives him open one that he hasn’t drank from yet, and goes back to the fridge to get himself another one.

Dean pops the bottle open with his ring, and takes a long drink, the taste calming him somewhat.

“Why aren’t you with Cas?”

“He’s sleeping,” Dean replies, looking at the beer bottle.

“You should be with him. If Jess and Alicia were here, I’d be with them.”

“Well they’re not. So I’m the best you’re gonna get.” Dean smiles at his brother, but it drops off his face quickly. They sit in silence for a few minutes, drinking their beer. Dean tries not to think about what the next day is going to bring, focusing on his brother next to him.

“You ready?” Sam finally asks.

Dean shrugs. “As much as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“You know the spell?”

“Yeah, Sam, I know the spell. Anna and Cas only had me repeat it like fifty times.”

“Well you wouldn’t want to forget it.”

“No.” Dean pauses before he continues. “You… You think everything’s fine, now?” _Do you think we’re ready?_

Sam lets out a shuddering breath. “I don’t know,” he says uneasily, looking at the bottle he is rolling around in his hands. “Does it just feel like… Does this just feel like the calm before the storm?”

Dean swallows. _Yeah. It does. It feels like everything’s about to come crashing down around our ears, and I’m scared. I’m not ready for what’s coming up, and I don’t want to face it. People are going to die, Sam. I know they are. And I don’t know how to deal with that._

But he doesn’t say any of that out loud. “Nah,” he says, dismissing Sam’s statement. “It doesn’t feel like that at all.”

Sam Looks at him, like he can see through Dean’s bullshit easily enough, too easily, if Dean’s being honest. He drains the rest of his beer and sets it down on the table, the clunk of it louder than it should be. Sam watches him silently as he gets up and comes back with the bottle of whiskey and two glasses, but accepts the drink that Dean pours him.

They clink their glasses together, Dean’s smile maybe a little too forced.

“To the future,” he says.

“To the future,” Sam echoes quietly.

Together, they throw back the amber liquid.


	18. Raziel's Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Charlie looks out the window on D-Day, there isn’t a cloud in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you've all had a good year so far. Sorry that this chapter took a bit longer than normal - I had three deancas secret santas to write, which added up to 20k, which took up a chunk of my time. 
> 
> I'd just like to say that I consider major character death to be Sam, Dean and Cas, and they live through this, but the jury's out on everyone else. There's a reason this is tagged with minor character death, and it's this chapter. 
> 
> As a heads up, I'd like to say that this turned out way gorier than I'd intended, so yeah. Enjoy :)

When Charlie looks out the window on D-Day, there isn’t a cloud in the sky.

“Well, at least we’ve got nice weather for saving the world,” she murmurs to herself.

She isn’t the first one awake. She comes out to Dean talking to Tamara and Isaac, Anna and Cas chatting to Caleb, and Ellen pouring herself cereal.

Charlie’s wearing her no-nonsense clothes – leather jacket, combat boots, belt with sheathes for everything she’s going to need. She already has her gun, and there’s holy water and salt stashed about her person. Her knives are around, and her extra gun is loaded with silver bullets.

She’s as ready as she’s going to get.

Dean is talking to Bobby, and it looks like they’ve been there for a while, standing in one of the less busy parts of the main room. Charlie waits until Bobby leaves, which is another ten minutes, before she walks up behind Dean. He’s rubbing his hands together, and is looking around from the corner where he’s standing, obviously worried.

“You look nervous,” Charlie murmurs. Dean jumps slightly.

“Yeah, a bit,” he admits, rubbing the back of his head. “I mean, we’re going to have back up. The SPN team, and I called in Madison her help, so she should be there as well. But even so…”

“We’re still likely to mostly die?”

“Hmm,” Dean responds lowly.

“Look,” Charlie starts. “Whatever happens today, we’re all consenting adults. We don’t have to be here, but we are. We all know the risks, and we think that the risk of not going is bigger than the risk of going. Yeah, some of us aren’t coming off that island alive. But we all have faith in you, Dean. We have faith that our sacrifice won’t be in vain, and that you are going to succeed.”

Dean looks at her for a long time. Charlie doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t move away either.

Dean finally sighs. “I think I get what you’re saying, Charlie. Thank you.”

Charlie nods. In attempt to lighten the mood, she jostles Dean’s shoulder with her own. “So… Enjoy yourself last night?”

Dean blushes and ducks his head. “Yeah,” he finally mutters. Charlie smiles at him.

“That’s good.”

“How many people know?” Dean asks, clearly embarrassed.

Charlie shrugs. “I know because of your horrible seduction line that you put up right in front of me. As for everyone else, they might have noticed you both leaving early. Or the very loud and obvious sounds coming from your room.”

“No,” Dean says, and to her delight, Charlie can see blood turning his cheeks darker.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she replies cheerily. “I went to bed early though, so the others might have missed them.”

There’s an awkward pause. “Sorry,” Dean mutters.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you and Cas are happy.”

Dean rubs the back of his neck and shifts his weight between his legs. “We should get going soon.”

“Probably,” Charlie says.

There’s a last minute rush as everyone gathers the last few things that they want, and then they all go to get in the cars outside. Bobby has Isaac, Caleb and Tamara in his old truck, and everyone else is sorting themselves out among the other vehicles.

Charlie’s the last one inside beside Ellen, who is going over the locks on everything and making sure that no one is going to try and break in while they’re gone because she left something that looks expensive out. She can see everyone getting into the cars, Dean, Sam and Castiel piling into the Impala while Jo and Bill climb into their large van.

Charlie pulls her phone out of her pocket. There’s no missed calls, no texts, nothing to suggest that she knows anyone outside of the people who are here, now. She had ditched her work phone already, but her personal one hasn’t received any calls either.

She unlocks it and scrolls down her list of contacts until she’s staring at Lara’s number. She’d hardly gotten to explain anything to her, and she’d been far too busy to try and catch her either at work or at home. When she’d haltingly asked Rufus about it, he’d looked it up in that computer of his, and he’d told her that Lara had taken her annual leave, and wouldn’t be back for another week and a half. She would be back now, but they still hadn’t talked, and Charlie is fairly sure that she’s going to her death today, and she wants some sort of closure for both of them if that happens.

She presses the call button and brings the phone up to her ear, not really knowing if she wants Lara to pick up or not. The phone calls and calls, and goes to voice mail.

Charlie sighs but waits for the beep, but even then she doesn’t know what to say.

“Lara… I just wanted you to know, that I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to think that I was lying or something, and I didn’t want you to be scared. But I left, ah, Phoenix. There’s some serious stuff going down, and I just wanted to tell you that I hope that we can get together some time and talk. If I make it through today, but you know. Anyway, yeah.” She pauses and then adds on the end, just before the phone beeps again to signal the end of the message. “I love you, and I’m sorry.”

She closes the phone and turns around to see Ellen standing there.

“Left someone behind, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah,” Charlie says. “Someone important.”

Ellen nods but doesn’t pry, which is something that Charlie likes about her.

“You ready to go?”

Charlie nods and waits just outside the door as Ellen puts the ‘Sorry, we’re closed,’ sign up in the front window and then locks the door of the Roadhouse.

Ellen is driving her own car, but Charlie gets into the back of the Impala with Cas. Dean is the first out on the road, and when Charlie looks over her shoulder, the other cars are all behind them.

The drive takes a few hours, but it doesn’t feel that long. An hour out, Dean pulls over at a non-descript diner and gets out.

“We need to discuss a few things before we get there,” Dean says. Sam shrugs and heads inside, probably to find a table for all of them, and Castiel falls in step with Dean, which Charlie thinks is cute. She follows behind them and watches as their hands brush against each other while they walk, and tries not to think of one or neither of them coming off the island alive.

There is a big enough table inside, so the gathered hunters sit down at it. Charlie looks around the table when they’re all there. It isn’t as rowdy as you would have thought for the amount of people, but their destination sums up why everyone is pensive.

Anna is sitting next to Jo, who is sitting next to Ellen, who is next to Bill. Then it’s Tamara and Isaac, followed by Caleb and Bobby. Charlie is sitting next to Bobby, and Dean is sitting next to her, with Cas on his other side, the former angel next to Anna.

A bored looking waiter comes over and mostly everyone orders something. As soon as the food arrives, they all start eating and the silence around the table grows.

“I just wanted to go over a few last things,” Dean says, and everyone gives varying degrees of acknowledgement, from Bobby’s grunt to Caleb’s nodding.

“Okay, so how are we going to get to the island?” Charlie asks.

There’s a pause as everyone thinks over the question.

“We could get boats,” Jo suggests, although by her expression, she knows it’s not a great idea.

“And have them know we’re coming because of the noise?” Dean replies.

“Well how else are we going to get across? Swim?”

“Of course not –”

There’s a chime as the door opens and everyone turns in their seats to look at the person who had just walked through the doors. Charlie doesn’t recognise him, but when she looks at Dean, his eyes are wide.

“Dean?” Charlie mutters, looking at him for an explanation.

“Brother,” Anna greets the short man as he stops at their table. Everyone is immediately on guard, and Charlie resists the urge to either grab her gun and shoot him or dive under the table. Any angels that aren’t Castiel or Anna are bad news.

“Gabriel,” Cas says quietly.

“The one and only,” the short angel says. He’s sucking on a lollypop, and he leans on the back of Dean’s chair with one arm while his other hand takes it out of his mouth so he can speak. “What, not excited to see me, Dean-o?”

“Not entirely,” Dean replies, looking annoyed. “Why are you here?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Gabriel asks. He pushes apart Charlie and Dean’s seats easily, as if they weigh nothing, and then Charlie’s eyes widen as he sits down on a seat that hadn’t been there two seconds ago. He leans over and mock whispers to her, loud enough so that everyone at the table can hear him. “Don’t want to cock-block, do I? I’m a nice brother.”

Charlie feels her mouth falling open slowly. Her every experience with angels had not prepared her for something like this. She looks at Dean, who is blushing (which is completely _adorable_ ) for an explanation.

“Uh, guys, this is Gabriel. He’s on the run from Heaven, so he’s not going to tell them where we are.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “Well, duh. I heard you talking about how you’re going to get to the island. The announcement for it was so noisy; I was surprised that they didn’t deafen some of the cherubim. No wonder our now featherless brother heard it, right Castiel? Or is it just Cas now?”

Cas has a small crease between his eyebrows, and is staring Gabriel down. Gabriel puts the lollypop back in his mouth and leans back in his seat nonchalantly.

“Don’t, Gabe,” Dean snaps.

“What, mock my brother for his poor choice in bed partners?” Gabriel asks, and Charlie can see him restraining another eye roll. “I never want any of my siblings to Fall, Dean. Just because I saw this one coming from a mile away doesn’t mean that I like it any better than usual. But I suppose what’s done is done.” He sighs softly and something sad flashes in his eyes, but then Charlie wonders if she had imagined it, because the next moment he’s back to haughtily staring at Dean and there’s no trace of it in him anymore.

“So you’re going to help us?” Dean asks warily.

“Well, I want to be neutral,” Gabriel says, waving his hand around airily. “So I’m siding with you. Neither Heaven nor Hell. Seems pretty neutral to me.”

“I suppose,” Dean mutters.

“So do you have any ideas on how we’re going to get to the island?” Ellen asks.

“Course,” Gabriel scoffs. “The solution’s simple. Anael takes Dean, Castiel and Sam to one side of the island, acting as the small team to find Raziel’s legacy. And I fly the rest of them to the other side of the island to act as a distraction.”

“I thought angels can’t transport just anyone,” Charlie butts in.

“Sure, for the lower class of angels,” Gabriel says. “But I’m an archangel. So, I’ve got the juice, don’t worry about that. As for Anael, transporting the others, it’s simple. Castiel doesn’t have a soul, just the faded remains of his Grace, so Anael could transport him anywhere. Dean is still linked to Castiel’s Grace… in fact…” Gabriel narrows his eyes at Dean and Dean leans back slightly. “There’s probably as much Grace inside you Dean, as there is inside Castiel. Anyway, just have Castiel hang onto him, and Dean will think that it’s him flying around, so you won’t have any problems. And Sam trusts Dean and Castiel with his life, down to his very soul, so have him hold onto them, and he’ll just be dragged along for the ride. Simple.”

Charlie blinks and she’s pretty sure that everyone else does as well.

“Umm,” Dean says. “Okay. Anna, Cas, will that work?”

“It should,” Anna says. Cas just shrugs.

“I do not know,” he answers.

“It’ll work,” Gabriel says confidently. “So what’s the rest of the plan?”

Dean hesitates and then begins to lay it out for him. Gabriel listens without interrupting until Dean starts talking about the shield around the Sword that apparently only he can get through since he’s the ‘Righteous Soul’ or man or whatever.

“The shield around the Sword doesn’t just shield it from beings who want to get in who aren’t allowed, but it also dims the supernatural abilities of angels and demons,” Gabriel says. “They will be very limited in the abilities that they will be able to use – superior speed and strength should be the most of what you’re dealing with. Angels are going to have trouble smiting the demons the closer that they are to the shield, but the demons shouldn’t be able to move anything around with their minds either. I should keep most of my mojo, but it’s going to be watered down, so don’t expect too much firepower. If Michael or Lucifer were there, then they wouldn’t be affected since Raziel was below them on the celestial chain of command, but I don’t think that either of them are going to show up. Luci’s trapped downstairs and Michael can’t come out of Heaven without a vessel, and our hot potato here isn’t going to be letting him in anytime soon, right Dean?” Gabriel takes a bite out of the chocolate bar in his hand as Dean shakes his head.

“No way. He’s not getting in here, ever.” Castiel leans towards Dean slightly, as if reassuring himself of that fact, and Charlie ducks her head to hide her smile. She’s glad that both of them sorted their problems out.

“Good,” Gabriel says, obviously approving of the venom in Dean’s voice. “You’re going to need that determination. My older brother was as stubborn as you, Dean. He’s not going to have made this easy.”

Charlie sees Dean swallow out of the corner of her eye.

“Dean will be able to do it,” Bobby says gruffly. “Don’t worry about that.”

Gabriel looks sceptical but there are low murmurs of assent from around the table. Everyone’s basically finished their food, so Dean pays for it on a credit card that probably isn’t completely legitimate. Gabriel starts humming to himself then starts talking to Bobby, who obviously doesn’t know how to deal with the archangel, but is determined to not take any of his shit.

Gabriel squeezes into the backseat with her and Cas, and Charlie isn’t sure if she welcomes him or not. Sure, the running commentary distracts her slightly from the enormousness of what they plan to try and accomplish today, and Dean’s annoyance is fond (although Charlie is sure that he’d never admit it) which makes her and Castiel smile at each other.

She swallows and looks out the window before checking her phone. Nothing’s come up, and she hadn’t really been expecting it to, but she still sighs softly.

It’s going to be a long day, and Charlie has no idea what’s going to come out at the other end of it. All she can do is resolve to fight, with every inch of her, resolve to try to end this in a way that might benefit humans instead of supernatural causes.

She doesn’t know if they can win, but she knows that they’re going to try.

~*~*~*~

Madison takes a deep breath in. Then exhale. Rinse. Repeat.

Going into a fight isn’t something that’s she’s unfamiliar with. It’s something that none of her wolves are unfamiliar with. Their lifestyle isn’t exactly calm, and she needs to know that everyone in her pack can depend on everyone else. Everyone learns to fight.

But today would be different than most fights, she knows that. She hadn’t known that angels had existed before Dean had called, and she tried to avoid demons as best she could. Going into a fight deliberately with both seems insane to her, but after Dean had laid out the consequences of losing this fight… She takes another breath in. World changing events don’t happen every day, but she’s smart enough to see that this would be one of them. What would happen here today would shape the rest of the world from now on, and she wants it to be for the better rather than for the worst. She definitely doesn’t want Hell to gain some sort of weapon that would allow them to invade Heaven, and she doesn’t think that Heaven should have an easy win every time they clash, either. What she’s learnt from Dean over the year that she’s known him tells her that he’s going to be a more than adequate protector of the Sword.

Her wolves are nervous, she can tell. Garth is trying to quiet them, and she’s speaking quietly to Elspeth about what medical capabilities there are on the battlefield. They’re all equipped with what the Winchesters could give them, but Madison has the feeling that it’s not enough. As soon as she sees one of the silver blades Dean had shown her, she’s going to grab it and stat doing some real damage. At least, if there are more werewolves, they know how to deal with them. It’s going to be their job to stop them from taking out the Winchesters, and the Winchesters would go through the angels and demons for them. They are more than able to take care of a few werewolves, even if they’re from the Alpha’s pack.

Elspeth goes to organise the last of her supplies, and Madison looks over to where Garth is. She had been impressed by the way that he’d stepped up after Thomas had been killed in that disastrous raid that had claimed the lives of the majority of her pack mates. She had appointed him as her second, and he had stepped up to that role, despite his strange way of going about the job.

Anna and Gabriel are muttering to each other, probably about how they’re going to transport so many people onto the island at one time. Dean and Castiel are talking with each other, and the rest of the hunters are gathered around, and are all speaking with each other quietly. She could pick up their words if she wanted to, but she leaves them be, not wanting to intrude on what could be some of their last moments of peace. She isn’t in denial – she knows that it is highly likely that most of the people here are not going to be leaving the island alive. Her wolves understand the consequences of failing, and all of them are determined to make a difference. It doesn’t help that both Madison and Garth are both set in their determination to fight. The pack senses that, and it helps them in turn to decide to fight as well.

She runs a hand through her hair, sighing silently. While she’s sure that this is the right thing to do, she’s still not so sure that she should be bringing her pack into this. They wouldn’t leave if she told them to now, but still, she wonders if she and Garth had influenced them too much.

“Hey! Everyone!”

Madison turns her head as Dean waves at the gathered group of people. “Can I have the group leaders over here please?”

Madison casts a smile at her group as she starts walking over to Dean. Garth follows her, and a few of the other humans come over as well. Madison stays close to Garth, and Garth stands right next to Dean, who nods at him.

Madison looks over at the other people in the circle. Castiel is standing on the other side of Dean, with Gabriel and Anna beside him. Tamara and Isaac are next, and Annie is standing next to Madison.

“Okay, so we’ve finalised what’s going to be happening,” Dean starts. “Anna, can you tell them how you’re going to get everyone to the island?”

Anna nods. “Gabriel will be taking the majority of the people needed on the island, and will then be acting as a solo agent from when he arrives. You all will be working in your teams to cause as much chaos as you possibly can on the battlefield. We only suspect that werewolves form the Alpha’s pack have been called in, and we do not know how the demons convinced the Alpha to agree to fight on their side. Werewolves are usually neutral when it comes to the war between Heaven and Hell, as are most supernatural creatures.” She takes a breath in. “I will take the smaller group to the north west side of the island, which is closer to the Sword. The others will go with Gabriel to the eastern side of the island, so it looks like we came in from the land. They will cause havoc, or so we hope, and let the smaller group pass by with less attention so that Dean can make it to the Sword with less demons and angels aware of his presence. As soon as you can, you need to find a silver sword, like this one.” Anna holds out her silver dagger, and Madison resists the urge to snarl at it. “So you can kill both angels and demons. When Dean has retrieved the Sword, he will kill the remaining demons and angels on the island, and Gabriel or I will transport you back to the safe point that we established. Does anyone have any questions?”

No one says anything, their faces sombre. Anna nods sharply and turns back to Dean.

“Well, that’s it,” Dean says. “Go talk to your people, and get ready to leave. As soon as it hits eleven, we’re going.”

The others all turn, and Madison turns to Garth. He’s twisting his hands together and Madison flashes a smile at him.

“We can take the weres,” she says. “We’ll leave the others to the guys with knives.”

Garth nods and they make their way over to their pack. Madison steadily explains everything to the pack, but they still shift their weight between each leg uneasily. She tries to calm them down, going to each pack member and talking to them quietly. Gabriel makes their way over towards them, and Madison takes a deep breath to steady herself, then she gestures for her pack to gather around her, which they do silently.

“Alrighty then, can everyone in my group please make your way over here,” Gabriel drawls. He’s chomping away on a chocolate bar, and Madison raises an eyebrow at it. All of the hunters come over, and Madison nods at Bobby and Ellen, who are standing next to Ellen’s husband and Isaac and Tamara. The people who had been Madison’s first experience with friendly hunters come over as well, even though she doesn’t recognise one of the older men, but she thinks that he’s their leader by the way that they defer to him when Dean isn’t around. As soon as everyone is there, in a sort of circle around Gabriel, Gabriel nods to them all.

“Okay guys. We all know the plan. Distract everyone, let Dean-o slip past the defences, and then skedaddle out as fast as we can. Get angel blades if you can, as they’re the only things that will work against angels and demons. Our furry friends here will take care of any other werewolves that appear,” Gabriel gestures towards Madison and her pack, and Madison fights the urge to growl at him. She still doesn’t like the short archangel.

“We’re going to go in first, and hopefully the others won’t be as noticed with us causing a commotion. Everyone ready?”

He pauses for a second. No one speaks, but some people nod.

“Then let’s go,” Gabriel says. “If everyone could join hands… sort of like a prayer circle, I know, but it’s efficient.”

Madison grabs Elspeth and Garth, and the rest of her pack quickly follow suit. Cullen is on the end, and he takes Tamara’s hand, who is linked to all of the other hunters coming with them. Ellen is on the other end, and Madison shuffles towards her slightly so that they’re closer together. Gabriel takes a step towards her and puts a hand on her shoulder, and one hand on Ellen’s shoulder. Before Madison can take another breath, the world is twisting around her sickeningly, twirling and squashing her down into a space smaller than she is. She lands heavily, but is left thinking that she took it easier than some of the humans did. Perhaps because the feeling that Gabriel had just put them through was very similar to what happens when she shifts into her wolf form.

Gabriel is standing with them, looking at them all with a critical eye. Everyone takes a minute to recover while Madison tries to see any demons or angels or other wolves through the trees. The only thing she can hear is metal clashing against metal, screams that are louder now than they had been before, and the heavy scent of blood in the air.

A deep shadow comes out of the trees, and Madison readies herself, slipping down into a fighting posture. Her pack follows her lead as more demons appear in front of them.

Not all of the humans are looking good yet, so Madison snarls at the demons, hearing her pack echo her. She steps up beside Gabriel, noting the silver dagger that he has in his hand.

“I’ll take care of these. Two have angel blades, so I’ll give them to you,” Gabriel mutters to her. “Protect the humans while they get over their air sickness.”

Madison nods, and Gabriel disappears from next to her. He reappears behind a demon, dispatching it easily. Within a minute, all of the demons are dead, and Gabriel is standing beside her, blood across his pants, offering a dagger.

“It’s silver, isn’t it?” Madison asks, not touching it.

“No,” Gabriel replies. “It’s holy metal, not silver. You can touch it.”

Madison gingerly reaches out, but when she brushes her finger over the cool metal, it doesn’t burn her. She takes it then, and holds it out, ready to defend her pack. Gabriel goes and gives the other blade to Ellen, who takes it gravely.

“We’ll go one way, you all go the other,” Madison says. The humans nod, and Madison howls, throwing her head back and letting the sound come out of her human throat. Her pack echoes her, and then Madison bounds off into the forest, silver death in her hand, ready to kill anything that she comes across to give their daggers to her pack, in order to increase their chances of survival.

It’s quiet at first. Madison signals for the two wolves of the blood to transform in a small clearing that they find. Just as they’re ready to keep going, a growl that doesn’t come from her pack comes from the opposite side of the clearing.

Madison immediately looks to where it had come from, as well as the rest of her pack. She can’t smell anything besides the heavy greenery, so she signals for her pack to get ready to fight. They huff and shuffle, several getting out their favoured knives while others stick with their teeth and nails, even though they’re not in wolf form. Garth is the only one who pulls a gun.

One wolf emerges from the trees opposite them. Madison recognises him as being from the Alpha’s pack. Madison glances around one more time at her pack. They’re all determined, with their weapons of choice held up, and she grins, proud of them all. Even if all of them die here, they’re going to deal some serious damage.

More werewolves, both in human form and wolf form emerge from the trees. Madison crouches down slightly, clearing her head and getting ready to fight.

“Alright,” she mutters to herself. “Let’s do this.”

~*~*~*~

Castiel feels the twisting sensation of being moved through space as Anna puts her hand on his shoulder. He grips onto Dean’s hand, and braces himself for landing on the island.

Light hits his closed eyes, and he opens them to a different surrounding than three seconds ago. Dean, Sam and Anna are standing with him, although Anna looks like she’s in pain.

“Are you alright?” Sam asks her, worry pinching his brow.

“The force of the field is stronger than I thought it would be. I won’t be able to fly from here again. We must find the Sword, because there is no other way out.”

Castiel nods and turns to Dean. “Are you ready?” He asks quietly.

Dean flashes a cocky smile at him. “Ready to kill some sons of bitches? Hell yes.”

Sam grins as well, and draws the demon blade. Dean already has Sariel’s sword in his hand, and Anna and Castiel draw theirs simultaneously.

“Let’s go,” Castiel says, and begins moving through the heavy forest. Dean comes behind him, Sam behind his brother, with Anna bringing up the rear. Anything that tries to attack from behind them will get an angel to deal with, even if Anna isn’t at her full power because of the spell over the island.

There’s screams and metal clashing coming from up ahead, and Castiel follows the sounds. He can feel the concurrent feelings of the Sword both pushing him away and pulling him towards it, and it’s making him slightly dizzy – he can’t imagine what the fully powered angels are feeling. The pull is coming from where the heavy fighting is, and Castiel assumes that the angels and demons are trying to cement a force around the shield so they control who goes in and who goes out. He heads towards it, even though it would most likely be the place with the heaviest fighting on the island.

A demon in smoke form spirals through the trees and Castiel halts, not wanting to deal with the insubstantial fiend. An angel streaks past after it, and Castiel winces at the bright light. An angel in a vessel crashes through the trees in front of them, and quickly kills the demon that comes after her. She looks up, sees the four of them, and her eyes widen.

“Sister, we mean you no harm,” Castiel tries to say, even though he knows that there’s nearly no point to arguing with her. She’s seen Dean, and she is marching towards them, obviously intent on capturing him.

Castiel steps forward to deal with her. He hears another crash at his back, so he can only assume that another angel or demon has come through the trees to attack the others. He focuses his attention on the angel in front of him, using every advantage that he can get to stay alive. She’s stronger than him, but they are matched in speed, and she can’t fly. It only takes a few minutes for him to thrust the blade deep into her chest, using the distraction of a howl in the distance to do it. He closes his eyes to the flash of white light that flares out from her as she chokes her life out. Her wings are left spread across the ground, and Castiel takes a second to look at them before picking up her angel blade and turning to the others.

Anna is duelling another angel, who is more powerful than the one Castiel had been facing. He’s as fast as Anna is, and Castiel takes that the mean that he is a garrison leader, just like Anna. Dean and Sam are circling around three demons, with two bodies at their feet already. As Castiel watches, they cut the rest of them down, and Anna stabs her opponent, sending out another flash of white light in as many minutes. She retrieves the blade as well, and then they’re walking quietly through the trees again, blood splatter across their clothing the only thing different from five minutes ago.

The shield must be further away than Castiel had thought, because they had been walking for longer than he would have imagined. There’s a crash, and he looks up, trying to see where the sound had come from.

An angel bursts out of the foliage and slams into him, knocking him to the ground. She straddles him and pins his hands above his head as more angels come through the trees to attack Sam, Dean and Anna. Castiel tries to buck the angel off but she doesn’t let herself move, keeping him on the ground. At the very least, she can’t use one of her hands to pin both of his, so she can’t harm him while they’re pinned. He keeps trying to throw her off, trying to knee her in the back with his legs, tilting his head to the side so he can watch the others fight off the angels while he struggles.

Dean is fighting two at the same time, ducking and swirling around them before landing a deadly blow, thrusting his angel blade deep into the side of one of them. Anna is fighting one, and one is lying at her feet. Sam is only facing off against one, but he is unused to the dynamics of fighting with the angel blade that he had picked up. Anna stabs her opponent and then jumps over to help Sam, knifing his opponent in the back. Dean stabs his, and then turns to get the angel off Castiel.

He sees movement in the trees behind Sam and Anna, and his cry of warning is the only thing that they have to go off. Anna whips around, but the last angel is going for Sam, not her.

Sam is slower to turn. Castiel watches it all, his own helpless struggles meaning that he can do nothing. Dean is too far away to help, nearly right by Castiel, and as he turns it’s too late for him to do anything as well. It seems like it all happens in slow motion, Anna jumping in front of Sam, the blade meant for him stabbing her instead.

“Anna!” He yells, the concentration of the angel above him wavering for a second. He uses that to push her off him and grab his blade, sinking it into her side and then scrambling to his feet and running over to his sister.

Sam thrusts his angel blade into the angel into Anna’s attacker and he starts to glow. Castiel ignores him in favour of kneeling beside her and looking down in despair.

“Castiel,” Anna says softly. “Don’t make this in vain… take Dean… the Sword…”

“I will,” Castiel promises. “Anna, we will win this.”

Her eyes crinkle up as a smile touches her lips, and then Castiel has to look away as her Grace explodes, leaving nothing but charred vegetation behind.

Castiel hangs his head, and there’s silence from the Winchesters. Dean comes to kneel beside him and Sam puts a hand on his shoulder. Castiel lets his grief choke him for a minute, and then he takes the angel blade from Anna’s hand and presents it to Sam.

“She would want you to have this,” he tells him. Sam takes it reverently, and Castiel stands up. Dean does as well, and they stare down at her body together.

“We have to keep moving,” Dean says eventually.

“I know,” Castiel says softly. “I know.”

It’s another few seconds before he turns, leaving his siblings but only mourning for one.

Castiel leads them again, and it isn’t long before they encounter more demons. They quickly put down the first wave, but more keep coming, hampering their progress through the forest.

Castiel slices through another demon, feeling the dark blood splatter across him. One with a snarl twisting its face comes for him. It is more skilled than its fellows and it makes him have to concentrate on it in particular. It has an angel blade, and swipes forward with it, making Castiel dance back quickly. He loses track of Dean and Sam while focusing on the demon, but he trusts them not to disappear in the middle of a fight. The demon growls and launches itself at him, and Castiel tries to jump out of its way, but finds himself being launched through the trees, the demon forcing him backwards. Castiel lets out a grunt as he hits the ground, the demon pinning him down. Castiel tries to angle a stab up to kill it, but the demon grabs his arm and pins it to the ground, trapping his arm there. Castiel grits his teeth and yanks himself out from under where it is pinning him, rolling over to the side. The demon tries to launch itself at him again, but Castiel brings the arm holding his blade up, and the demon impales itself on it with a meaty crunch.

Castiel shoves the body off him, yanking the silver sword out of the body and taking the sword that the demon had and tucking it away safely. He tries to look around for Dean or Sam, but the demon must have thrown them further than Castiel realised. He’s surrounded by trees, and there aren’t any more angels or demons near him, so he must be in one of the small pockets away from the fighting.

Howls start spiralling from the other side of the island, and Castiel looks towards it. So he had been right in thinking that werewolves are on the battlefield as well, and he takes a second to thank his Father for the fact that Madison and her pack are also on the island, supporting them. It isn’t like they don’t have enough to deal with, with the demons and angels hounding Dean out for his soul.

He turns around and starts heading back to where he had lost Sam and Dean, but when he sees the next person in front of him, he freezes.

“Castiel,” Abiel says quietly. She flicks her dark hair out of her face, and Castiel takes a look at her, her once pristine white button down shit now stained with bright red arterial blood, and the dark red of sluggish demon gore.

“Abiel,” Castiel replies softly. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Abiel says coldly. “You _abandoned_ our garrison, Castiel. When we needed us most, when there was only seven of left!”

Castiel stares at her. Abiel is one of the angels that he trusts most in his garrison, and he had been glad that she was one of the ones who had been left alive. Abiel is in charge of healing, and she is very good at what she does. She can analyse Grace unlike any other angel Castiel has ever met, and he counts himself lucky to have had her under his command.

“Abiel, I took the path which I thought was right. Anael was the one to make me look deeper into myself to choose this. She escaped re-education, and she’s here now, fighting with me. Is the rest of the garrison here?”

Abiel looks at him for a few seconds before she answers. “Yes. Rachel is leading now, with Hester as her second. Castiel, Desiel has already fallen on this battlefield. Why did you leave this to us?”

In the next silence, an angelic scream rings out, and both Castiel and Abiel flinch, neither wanting to look at the vibrant wash of white light that goes across the whole island, signalling the end of an angelic life. Castiel tries not to think of his garrison, abandoned by both Anna and himself, lost and alone and fighting to their deaths. Anna and Desiel had already fallen, and he is afraid that by the end of the day, there would be little of their garrison left.

“What do you want me to say, Abiel?” Castiel asks her. “That I regret leaving you all? That I wish I had behaved differently? Because I do not regret what happened. I feel remorse for what the rest of the garrison went through, after Anna and I disappeared. But we were being deceived, we were _all_ being deceived.”

“What do you mean?” Abiel asks, tilting her head slightly. Castiel sees something of himself in the gesture.

“The demons have angel blades, Abiel,” Castiel says lowly. “They are being supplied to demons by a faction of angels inside Heaven.” He tries to make his voice convincing, trying to convince her that he’s telling the truth. She narrows her eyes slightly as Castiel continues. “How else could the demons have gained such a large amount of angel blades? Angel blades that they are _killing_ our brethren with?”

Abiel is looking at him openly now, and Castiel takes advantage of it, takes advantage of the fact that she is still used to looking to him as a leader, as her leader.

“Abiel, you have to admit, this is suspicious. Help me to protect Dean while he makes it to the Sword. You’ve seen the balance between Heaven and Hell in the last hundred years. It would be better if it remains in neutral hands. Dean will be good for that. If anyone can control the Sword, then Dean will be the one. Please, trust me on this. I haven’t made a terribly wrong decision in the past before, have I? I’ve always had the garrison’s interests at heart, have always wanted peace. Abiel, this is the only way. The Sword has to stay out of Heaven and Hell’s clutches.”

Castiel stops talking and simply watches his garrison member. Abiel looks at her feet, and then through the trees at where Castiel assumes the nearest conflict is raging.

“I will not oppose you in your venture, Castiel,” Abiel says eventually. “But I cannot bring myself to think that you are completely correct. I still have faith in our superiors and our Father, even if you do not.”

Castiel nods sharply. “Very well. Take care.”

Abiel nods back, and then she turns to slip off into the trees, heading away from Castiel.

He watches her disappear into the trees and then hurries back to where he had last seen the Winchesters. The only things remaining from the battle that had taken place here is smoking corpses and blood seeping into the ground. Castiel thinks that the memory of this battle will remain in this earth, blood and gore staining the energy of the island for a long time to come.

He doesn’t know which way Sam and Dean had gone, so he starts making his own way through the heavy trees towards where the Sword had fallen to earth. More howls come to his right, and he follows them, wanting to make sure that all of the enemy werewolves had been taken care of.

It takes about ten minutes to crash his way through the trees, and when he does, he doesn’t expect what he finds.

There’s an open clearing, probably the most open most on the island in front of him. It’s about a hundred metres long on each side, maybe a bit smaller, and every inch of it seems to have people in it, some fighting with silver swords and some fighting with their nails and teeth.

He sees Madison and Garth fighting side by side, trying to take down a werewolf in its wolf form. There are only a few of them across the entire clearing, but those that are there are wreaking havoc on the battlefield.

Taking a deep breath, he walks out into the chaos, fighting the werewolves that he doesn’t recognise. He makes his way over to Madison and Garth eventually, who both look exhausted. They have a small breather in the middle of the fighting, and Madison and Garth ask him if Dean had gotten to the Sword.

“I don’t know,” Castiel replies. “I was separated from them. They were making their way towards it, however. They should be arriving there about now.”

As if Castiel’s words had foretold it, a ripple of energy goes over the entire island, so strong that even the humans can feel it. Garth and Madison sway on their feet slightly and Castiel grits his teeth as the energy passes through him. Around them, the sound of fighting abruptly ceases as everyone waits through the power surge.

“Dean’s through the shield,” Castiel says, triumphant. “He’s made it. I need to go and find them, since Sam is alone and about to fight every angel and demon who try to go after them. Keep fighting here – we should make it back soon.”

Madison and Garth nod. Castiel quickly gives them the angel blades that he had picked up before turning and fighting his way back the way he had come, jumping and dancing around demons and angels who had just become desperate. They know what the wave of energy means, and already Castiel can see some demons fleeing, disappearing into the thick cloud cover above them, the black smoke blending in with the black clouds. The fighting has spilled out into the woods around the clearing, the clearing itself having become the centre of the battle. Castiel finds far too many lifeless bodies as he works his way through the trees, trying not to study any features of the bodies, not caring if they are demon, angel or human. Not only does he not want to see anyone that he knows, he doesn’t want the memories of the numerous bodies to be imprinted in his head, if he emerges from this island alive.

But when he sees two bodies close together, one with vibrant red hair, and one with dark skin, he can’t stop himself from walking over to them. He swallows as he looks down on them.

Victor’s throat is torn out, blood covering him. His eyes are staring at nothing, not yet clouded over. Castiel looks at the knife in his chest and makes no motion to move it.

Annie looks like she had died taking down the demon next to her. Castiel assumes that it had killed Victor, and then Annie had killed the demon as the demon killed her. She’s covered in wounds, her hands clutching at her stomach. She had dragged herself over to Victor’s side, and her blood is matting her hair together as it leaks from her head.

Castiel closes his eyes for a few seconds and offers up a prayer to his Father, hoping that He will guide their souls to where they belong in Heaven. Victor and Annie had been good people. They deserve whatever rest they can find.

The peace around the bodies does not last as long as he would have liked to stand there. He dispatches a demon that comes too close to them before he leaves them, regret clogging his throat until he feels like he cannot breathe.

He shakes his head and refuses to let his eyes tear up. He changes the guilt and grief to anger and rage, and he lets it carry him towards Dean. He won’t lose him as well as Anna and the humans that had undoubtedly fallen in the last hour.

As he rounds a tree, a small clearing comes into view. Castiel blinks, and then throws his arm up just in time to cover his eyes from a blast of white light exploding from a dying angel. When he looks, Hael’s vessel is bleeding sluggishly on the ground, but there’s no light behind her now sightless eyes.

Castiel bares his teeth and looks up to see the demon who had done this. He readjusts his grip on his blade, ready to leap into battle and avenge his sister, one of the last few who had been remaining from his garrison, when he sees who it is.

Alastair is smirking at him. Castiel feels his mouth twist up into a scowl as he approaches, feeling the chaos of the battle around him fading into the background. Only Alastair matters.

“You’ve come back, even though your wings have been clipped,” Alastair drawls. He steps over Hael’s body casually while lifting up his own angel blade to lick the blood off it. The rest of the red liquid drips slowly down over his hand, coving it in trickles of crimson.

“I will kill you,” Castiel vows quietly. They start to circle each other, and Castiel knows that his first move will have to be decisive. The demon is far more powerful than he is. “For what you did to Dean – for all of your sins.”

Alastair throws his head back and laughs. It clashes against the sounds of death that otherwise fill the island. “Oh angel, how I’d like to see you try. Tell me, is Dean stupid enough to be here? What is he trying to do? Kill himself? That’s the only option that will happen when he touches the Sword, you know. There’s too much power in one artefact for one puny human to control.”

“Dean will be able to do it,” Castiel asserts. “He will win over the Sword, and then he will win over _you_ , Alastair. You are not leaving this island alive.”

Alastair snarls silently, mouth opening to expose yellow teeth smeared with blood. “If I’m not leaving this island alive, then neither are you, flightless bird. Tell me, is that why you did it? You wanted to assure your safety if you picked the winning team? You wanted to gain Dean Winchester’s loyalty? Is that why you whored yourself out to him?”

Castiel feels his own mouth contorting. “You know nothing about Dean and I,” he snarls, and leaps forward to slice down at Alastair. The demon blocks it and they return to circling each other after a few strokes against one another, Castiel’s skill the only thing keeping him alive.

“I know that no angel in their right mind would do what you did with him,” Alastair carries on. Castiel tries not to let anger cloud his judgement – instead, clear focus fills him. This is all part of Alastair’s strategy. Torture is a part of him, intrinsically, whether it be physical or mental. And the demon still remembers Castiel beating him the last time they met; Castiel can see it in his eyes.

“Is that what you’ve Fallen to, _Cas_?” Alastair sneers, putting as much condescension into the name as he can. “Running to humans for help? You can’t even protect him, now that he’s here. He’s going to die, Cas, and you’re not even going to be there to see it. You’re not even going to be alive for it. I’m going to kill you here, and you’ll never know what happens next.” Alastair jumps forward and Castiel only just manages to duck out of the way. He doesn’t let himself get trapped into fighting head on with the powerful demon, knowing that that would never work. Instead he looks around for anything that could help him defeat Alastair.

“But I’ll tell you,” the demon purrs. His eyes turn white, and Castiel can see a glimpse of the twisted demon beneath the human skin. He shudders at the sight of the demented Grace, not understanding how an angel could Fall so far.

“I’ll tell you what happens next, Cas. I’ll find Dean. And after I take the Sword from him, I’m going to kill him slowly. I’m going to take his intestines out and burn them in his lap, I’m going to cut him open in every way I know, I’m going to split him open from behind, _just like the good days,_ ” Alastair growls. “And he’s going to know that you’re dead. Your decapitated head is going to watch me do all of that to him, and more. He’s going to beg me for death, and I’m going to take pleasure in denying him that release.”

They clash again, and Castiel feels himself losing ground. He tries to escape out from where Alastair is herding him, but it’s too late. The demon thrusts his hand out and pins Castiel against the tree behind him by his neck. He knocks his angel blade out of his hand as Castiel struggles to breathe, and the demon continues talking.

Alastair’s sulphuric breath washes over him, and Castiel can’t help but retch. Alastair laughs and Castiel shudders as he runs a hand over his body. “So pretty,” he murmurs in his ear, tongue sneaking out to rasp at Castiel’s cheek. “Too bad I have to kill you.” Castiel tries to fight, thrashing in the demon’s grip, but he can’t escape, and this was inevitable from when they had first seen each other.

There’s a crunch, and Castiel’s last thought is _Dean,_ before everything goes black.

~*~*~*~

As soon as they’re separated from Cas, Dean knows that something is going to go wrong. Sam is still at his side, and Anna’s angel blade is glinting in his hand as he cuts down angels and demons alike with it. They work as a team, not letting any creature get past their defences as they work their way across the island. Dean can feel the shield humming, but when he asks Sam about it, all he gets is a confused head tilt.

“It’s like I can hear a mosquito or something flying around right by my ear, except the sound never changes. Just a steady hum. It’s kind of annoying, actually.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sam replies.

Dean shrugs, looking around to see if anything’s approaching them, either an angel or demon, or Cas, wherever he is. A large part of Dean wants to scrap the quest for the Sword, as important as that is. Cas is more important to him, but he knows that he can’t leave. He can’t forsake everyone else on this island, whose only hope of getting out is him defeating everything else (how that is even going to happen, Dean has no idea. He’s only human, but the way that Cas and Anna had talked about the powers of the Sword had sometimes freaked him out). He can’t just give up on it, no matter how much the worry he’s feeling with every second that Cas is gone mounts. Cas can take care of himself, Dean knows that. He fought for years and years and years without Dean being there, but there’s a nagging voice in the back of his head that says that _yes_ , Cas did all that, but he did it while he was an _angel._ He isn’t now, and it scares Dean more than he’d like to admit. He’d thought that they had gotten over this when Cas had confronted him a few weeks ago, but there’s still a part of him that is screaming out, ordering Dean to go and find him and keep him safe. Dean is trying to fight it down, but it’s making him worried. Sam can see it, he’s sure. He keeps looking at Dean softly, when Dean is looking around through the trees, trying to see anything. He has no idea how Cas got lost in the first place, but he is going to find whatever is keeping them apart, and he is going to rip it to shreds.

For now, he keeps repeating _Cas is okay, Cas is okay, Cas is okay_ , over and over in his head. It helps him keep a level head, and focus on everything else that’s going on around, like the numerous creatures that are trying to capture him and kill Sam.

“The hum, I’m pretty sure that it’s the shield. When Cas was leading us earlier, he said he was leading us towards where he could feel where the shield is. And the hum just kept getting louder and louder as we kept on walking. And now, when I go one way, it gets sort of louder, and when I go the other way, it starts to get quieter.”

“So what are you waiting for?” Sam asks. “Follow it, and eventually we’ll get to the shield, and inside of that is the Sword, which is what we’re here for.”

Dean nods. “Okay. I’ll keep heading towards it, then.”

Dean keeps heading towards the buzz, taking slow steps when he feels like he needs to turn one way or another. Sam doesn’t ask questions, just keeps on following him whichever way that Dean chooses. When they duck into the bushes for cover whenever an angel or demon flash past them, too busy in fighting each other to notice them there, Dean has to recalibrate. It takes a shorter amount of time as they get closer to the shield, but it still frustrates Dean, since he thinks that it takes longer than if Cas or Anna were here. He grits his teeth as he thinks of Anna. He doesn’t want to think of the angel’s death, but he just uses his grief to fuel his anger and violence every time that they meet an enemy.

“We getting close?” Sam whispers.

“I think so,” Dean replies quietly. They walk for another minute through the thick underbrush before Dean hears a scream from up ahead. He angles away from it, and keeps on walking, only stopping when Sam lets out a grunt behind him.

“Sam?” Dean asks, turning back. His brother had stopped a few paces back, and is rubbing his head.

“I can’t go on,” Sam says. He puts a hand up and feels forward until it stabilises in the middle of the air against nothing. Dean walks back to stand next to him.

“I can’t feel anything,” he says.

“Well, I can’t go any further,” Sam replies. “Look, you go on. I’ll wait here until you come back, okay? Keep the way secure.”

Dean frowns. “You should go back a bit. Hide in the trees, make sure that no one can find you.”

Sam frowns back at him. “I’m going to stay here, Dean. Just go.”

Before Dean can see anything else, there’s a rustle and several men come out of the trees. Sam grabs Anna’s sword and settles into his fighting stance.

“I’ll stay and help you fight these off,” Dean says, touching his blade in his jacket.

“No, Dean. You have to hurry. We’re already short on time as it is, and we’re not gaining any. Go. Now.”

“Dean Winchester,” one of the demons says. “Step out of the perimeter of the shield and come with us, and we will not hurt either you or your brother.”

“Yeah, I’d rather not,” Dean replies. “How about you fuck off, and Sam and I won’t kill you all?”

That earns him some scowls, but the lead demon waves the rest of them back when they try to take a step forward.

“I don’t think so,” the lead demon says. His eyes flash black and he slowly starts walking towards them.

Sam looks at him. “You should go now, Dean.”

“Not until you’re safe,” Dean replies, stubbornly not moving. Sam Looks at him and then shoves him backwards until he can’t go any further.

“Dean, go,” Sam tells him as he turns to face the demons. Dean stands, frozen, as his brother starts to chop at the enemies. “Go!” He shouts, and Dean wrenches himself away from it. He spins and starts running into the deepest, darkest part of the forest, hearing the sounds from the battle fade as he gets further away from them.

It isn’t long before he comes across a dome made up entirely of plants. There’s a small entrance, and Dean takes a breath to steel himself before he brushes past the plants to enter the dome. The buzzing in his ears is near unbearable now, but as soon as Dean steps into the dome, it stops abruptly.

It’s dark inside. Dean blinks, and waits for his eyes to adjust. As they do, he makes out a soft, small glow coming from what he supposes is the middle of the dome. He takes a step forward and the glow brightens considerably. He takes another, and another, the shine growing with each step.

By the time he’s one step away from the centre, he’s having trouble looking at it, it’s that bright. Dean takes a moment to drink in the sight before him before he starts the ritual.

There’s no mistaking it for anything but what it is. Raziel’s Sword is the source of the light, the silver of the blade shining luminously. Dean swallows as he takes in the intricate etchings and swooping patterns that cover every part of the Sword that he can see. They taper off to a simple handle, with an Enochian rune carved into the hilt. It’s tilted towards him slightly, as if offering itself to be pulled out of the rock which it is imbedded into. It’s about half buried, and it doesn’t look as if the two objects have ever been separated.

“Alright. Raziel, let’s see what you’ve got,” Dean mutters. He takes in a deep breath and starts the spell, the ancient incantation falling off his lips easily. He scrutinises every syllable before it exits his mouth, and when he passes the point in which he had had trouble with without faltering, the tight knot of fear inside him eases slightly. When he’s done, and all he needs to do is reach out and take the Sword, Dean hesitates. He thinks of Cas and his fearful worries of Dean not being able to hold the power inside the Sword, of Anna and her quiet sentences about how it may not work. Then he closes his eyes and steadies himself before reaching out with his right hand.

It wavers slightly, but Dean bares his teeth and wraps his fingers around the hilt. A buzz immediately goes up his arm, but nothing else happens. Dean licks his lips and adjusts his grip. He pulls, and the Sword edges out of the rock slowly. Dean grits his teeth and pulls harder.

The Sword emerges from the rock, and everything explodes in a rush of white.

 


	19. Finale

The first thing that Dean sees when he opens his eyes is grey.

He blinks twice, and then shakes his head, trying to clear it. He brings a hand up to swipe at his eyes, which are watering and making everything blurry. He ends up hitting himself in the face with something that he’s gripping tightly in his right hand.

He sits up, supporting himself on the hand that isn’t wrapped around a silver, glowing sword. A drop of rain hits his eye, and he reflexively blinks. He’s sitting in a clearing, the sides sloping upwards. The rain is becoming heavier, and the dirt around him is quickly turning to mud. He looks down at the blade in his hand. It’s in the dirt, but when he lifts it up, the mud sloughs off it to leave the Sword shining and clean.

Dean grits his teeth and stands up, only swaying slightly. He steadies himself and looks around just in time to see a man throw himself down the side of the crater towards him. The long legs and whipping hair give him away as Sam. His brother is sprinting towards him, and Dean narrows his eyes at him. He looks down again at the Sword, trying to remember the particulars of how he had arrived here.

“Dean!” Sam shouts. “Dean!”

_Anna transporting them to the island. Fighting. Anna falling. Sam stabbing an angel with Anna’s blade. Getting separated from Cas. Reciting the ritual._

Sam reaches him and puts his hands on his shoulders, staring into his eyes. “Dean?” Sam asks. “Are you alright?”

Dean takes a deep breath in and everything clears around him. The sense of the rain hitting his skin becomes sharper, and he can hear the screams and clashing of metal in the distance. He looks at Sam and reaches up with his free hand to grab at his shirt, which is filthy, covered in blood and mud.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks him, focused on his brother, trying to find any injuries.

“I got cut by a demon, but it’s not serious. Is that it?” Sam looks down at the Sword. Dean nods silently and Sam lets out a breath.

“Well, at least it didn’t kill you,” Sam breathes. “Come on, we have to go find the others and get out of here. I think more demons are coming.”

Dean nods and tries to take a step forward. He stumbles and Sam catches the back of his shirt and grabs Dean’s arm to pull over his shoulder. Dean doesn’t try to fight him, knowing that for now, he’s not in the best of shape.

“Where’s Cas?” Dean asks, voice rough.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since we got separated. Dean, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Dean nods jerkily, trying not to think of Cas by himself on an island where nearly everyone is his enemy.

“Okay,” Dean replies. “We should probably get out of here.”

“Before someone who can beat the power of the Sword shows up, yeah. We’ll find everyone as we go.”

They stumble up the side of the depression, the mud making it hard to get any traction on the slippery surface. When they finally get to the top, both of them are covered in muck. Dean looks at the Sword in his hand, and it’s still free of any dirt, the silver shining with its own luminescence.

Sam looks worried, but he shouldn’t be. Dean feels like he’s floating, tiredness from the fighting disappeared, mind sharp and all exhaustion from before gone. He feels good, more than good. He feels ready to deal with whatever crap the Universe is going to throw at him next.

When Dean looks up, there is black smoke mixing with the dark clouds. The demons are fleeing the battle, probably against orders. There’s a boiling mass of black clouds in the sky that Dean doesn’t think are natural, but since they’re not on the battlefield, he can ignore them. Dean can’t see any white light, but if he had to guess then he’d think that there are angels who had fled the battle as well.

There is still some metal clashing and screaming in the distance, and Sam and Dean go towards that without looking at each other.

“Did anything happen when I grabbed this?” Dean asks, holding up the Sword for Sam to see.

Sam looks at it for a few seconds, eyes narrowing slightly. “There was this weird feeling, like when you’re a bit too far underwater and the pressure’s starting to get noticeable. But that only lasted for a second. I had just finished cleaning up the demons that had come after us, and then there was this massive crater next to me. No boom, or sound at all. Just all the dirt and trees and plants gone, and I could see you at the bottom, so I ran down to make sure that you were okay. But apart from that, I don’t know. If something happened that only angels or demons could sense, I wouldn’t know about it, but I would guess that something like that happened, because there are creatures fleeing where they hadn’t ten minutes ago. Hopefully that means that we’ll face less opposition here, but it might mean that the ones that are left are desperate.”

“I’ll deal with them,” Dean says, ducking under a tree branch. Sam frowns at him but doesn’t say anything in reply.

A few minutes later, they come across a clearing. There are bodies scattered across it, some wearing the everyday clothes of normal people, and others with the prim suits that the angels seem to favour. The angels have their burnt out wings framing them, while the demons have nothing.

Sam sucks in a breath and Dean follows his line of sight to the other side of the clearing, where there are two people almost hidden behind a tree. Dean recognises the ripped jeans that he can see as belonging to Ellen, and the darker ones crouched next to her as Jo’s. He quickly makes his way across to them behind Sam, avoiding treading on the bodies or the wings where he can.

“Jo?” Sam asks cautiously. Jo looks up at them and something like relief passes across her face.

“Sam,” she replies, voice hollow.

“Hey there, boys,” Ellen says weakly, voice coming out scratchier than normal.

“Ellen? Are you alright?” Dean asks as he comes around the other side of the tree. When he sees why Ellen’s sitting propped against the tree though, he sucks a breath in.

Ellen laughs softly. “Yeah, it’s not pretty.”

“Mum and I got separated from the others,” Jo says, voice dull. “We beat off all of those guys, but one of them managed to get her.”

Jo hadn’t pulled the knife from Ellen’s side, but leaving it in there is just prolonging the inevitable. It’s angled straight in, so it’s cutting through all of the organs in her stomach, which aren’t the kind of things that can be patched up easily.

“Did you get it?” Ellen asks softly, looking at the silver Sword in Dean’s hand. He holds it up, and she nods slowly. “Then it was all worth it.”

Dean looks up at Sam, who is paler than he had been a few minutes ago. “Sam and I will go find Gabriel,” Dean says. “He can patch you up.”

Ellen offers him a half smile. “I think I might be too later for even your wonder boy,” she says.

“We’re going to go find him,” Sam says stubbornly. “Wait here with her, okay Jo? Don’t let anything else get close to her.”

“Jo, go with Dean and Sam,” Ellen tries to say, but her daughter talks over her.

“I can do that,” she says, determination in her eyes. “But where’s Cas and Anna?”

Dean exchanges a glance with Sam, seeing the grief in his brother’s eyes. “Anna is gone, and Cas got separated from us. We’re going to find everyone now.”

“I think there was a pretty big battle in the clearing near here,” Jo says, after taking a deep breath. Dean remembers that Anna had been her partner, and that they had been close. “Where the werewolves all are. I think that’s where the only fighting is now.”

“We’ll head over that way then,” Sam says. He leans forward and kisses Ellen’s forehead. Ellen grabs Dean’s hand and looks at the Sword.

“Be careful with that,” she says. She looks at Sam. “And look after him, Sam. Sometimes he doesn’t know he needs it until it’s too late.”

Dean stands up, refusing to listen to anything else. Ellen is going to be fine. They’re going to find Gabriel, and Dean is going to make him heal Ellen. She’s not going anywhere.

Sam just nods gravely and then stands as well. The brothers start walking again, Dean casting one last look behind him to where Jo is standing above Ellen, silver angel blade in one hand, ready to take on anything that comes near her.

Dean is about to keep walking towards the sounds of fighting, when Sam grabs his shirt to keep him from going forward. Dean looks at him, eyebrows lowered, as he tries to figure out why Sam is making them stop.

“Look,” Sam says, pointing at the path. In front of them is a clear footprint, and Dean recognises it as the boots that Cas had been insistent on wearing. The recognisable deep triangle on the sole had been pressed into the soil, but the rain is gradually washing it away. He must have just missed coming across Ellen and Jo.

“He’s not going towards the fighting,” Dean observes. The footprint is pointing away. “Come on, we have to find him.”

The turn to the direction that Cas had been going on, and it only takes a minute to find him.

Dean sees Alastair first. It’s like the demon has been waiting for them – he’s standing in a tiny space between the trees, looking straight at Dean like he had known he would be coming. There’s an angel blade covered in blood in his hand, and his eyes are white.

Then Dean’s eyes flick down to his feet, and sees Cas with his eyes closed, Alastair’s boot on his throat.

His fists tighten and the edges of his vision go red as he takes a step forward. Alastair’s smirk grows and Sam grabs his arm.

“Dean,” he says, lowly so that Alastair can’t hear it. “Don’t rush this. He could still be okay, and we don’t want him to hurt Cas any more than he already has.”

Dean nods slowly, and Sam reluctantly sets him free.

“Do you like my present for you, Dean?” Alastair purrs. “I hear you’re quiet fond of the wingless thing. Too bad he’s very, very breakable now.”

“Take your foot off him,” Dean growls, voice loud enough so that it echoes across to the demon.

Alastair laughs. “He was cute about it, you know. Came charging up, tried to bait me so he could get a hit in. I couldn’t let that happen, of course. So I choked the life out of him. Humans, so fragile.”

“Move,” Dean commands, anger strengthening his voice. He takes another few steps towards them. “Move off him.”

“How adorable,” Alastair sneers. He steps over Cas and takes a few steps towards Dean, twirling the angel blade around in his hand. “He wants to protect the angel – whoops, I forgot, not an angel right? Or he wouldn’t be lying in the mud.”

Dean fights down his anger. He can’t let Alastair get to him, or there’s no way he will be able to defeat the demon in a fight. He sees Sam moving out of the corner of his eye, going around through the trees to get behind Alastair, which means that he’s probably going to go make sure that Cas is fine. Dean blocks his brother and lover out of his mind and focuses on the demon.

They’re only standing a few metres away from each other now.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you,” Alastair says, eyes flicking from white to normal.

“Too bad you’re not going to get that chance,” Dean replies. The Sword in his hand feels like a natural part of him, something that should have always been there. An extension of him.

Dean lunges forward, Alastair skipping back a pace as they start to fight.

~*~*~*~

His head hurts.

His ears are ringing. He can taste blood in his mouth. His eyes feel like they’ve been glued together, and when he moves, he moans slightly.

“…Cas…”

The voice sounds like Sam, but Castiel doesn’t want to listen to it. He feels like he’s been run over by something heavy and he doesn’t want to move.

The sound of metal clashing and snarling trickles into his consciousness. Sam’s voice is getting louder and more urgent, but Castiel still doesn’t want to pay it any attention.

It isn’t until he hears a shout of pain that sounds familiar that he struggles to open his eyes.

Sam’s face comes into view gradually, and Castiel blinks a few more times to clear his vision.

“Sam?” He mutters. Sam looks relieved, and he helps Castiel sit up. His head is still ringing, and there’s an ache in his head that Castiel recognises as the beginning of a terrible headache. Sam is blurry, and when he blinks he doubles for a second before he settles into one person again, but it’s disorientating. “What…?”

Sam looks over his shoulder for a few seconds while Castiel struggles to sit up. Sam supports him and Castiel hangs his head between his knees, fighting a bout of nausea that thankfully only lasts a few seconds. He touches his neck only to have his hands come away sticky with blood.

There’s a crash and Sam flinches. Castiel looks over towards where the sound had come from, but he can’t see any movement through the trees.

“Dean’s fighting Alastair,” Sam explains. Castiel shakes his head slightly, trying to clear it, memories coming back to him slowly, of his ill-fated match against Alastair and it’s ending, of the demon crowding him up against a tree and knocking him out.

“Dean,” Castiel says, trying to stand up.

“Whoa!” Sam says, steadying him. Castiel sways and Sam looks at him, worried. “Are you alright?”

“I’m feeling dizzy,” Castiel admits, and Sam’s frown deepens.

“You probably have a concussion. Do you have a headache?”

“Alastair knocked me out Sam, yes, I have a headache.”

Sam looks slightly reassured by his words. “Well it can’t be too bad if you’re saying stuff like that. We have to find the others. Dean is the only one that can take on Alastair, except maybe Gabriel, but I think he needs to have this for himself, as closure. He can kill Alastair.” Sam looks like he’s trying to convince himself of that, but Castiel has no doubts. If anyone can kill the demon, it is Dean, especially if he has Raziel’s Sword.

“Come on,” Sam says after a few seconds have passed in silence. “I don’t know where Dean’s gone, but it’s probably better that we’re not there for Alastair to threaten. Hopefully the Sword is all that you’ve made it up to be.”

“It is,” Castiel says. “Wait, is he using the Sword?”

“Yeah?” Sam answers. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

Castiel turns to Sam, panic beginning to churn in his stomach. “Sam, the Sword is still mining his soul for its power. He has to stop using it, stop touching it, or he’s going to die anyway.”

Sam tenses up. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Castiel replies.

“Shit,” Sam mutters. “Okay, we need to find him. Can you stand up?”

“Maybe,” Castiel replies. He touches his head, and his fingers come away sticky and red. Sam winces and his fingers go to the back of Castiel’s head. Castiel grunts as a flash of pain goes through him.

“Just take it slow,” Sam recommends, even though he’s tapping his fingers against his leg and looking through the trees in the direction in which Dean and Alastair disappeared.

“Okay,” Castiel says. He sits up, and Sam helps him to his feet. The hunter pulls Castiel’s arm over his shoulders and they start to move forward slowly in the direction that Dean went, every time Castiel brings his foot down sending a shockwave up to echo around his body.

There’s a loud crash to the side of them, and both of them look to their left towards it.

“Sam?” Castiel asks cautiously. “What’s –”

A man comes out of the trees there, a gun held up in front of him and dressed in the distinctive colours of a police officer.

“Put your hands in the air, now!” The man says. Castiel glances at Sam, but the taller hunter has his hands up, so Castiel copies him slowly, wincing as he lifts his right arm and realises that there must be a cut on it, because it’s suddenly burning painfully.

“Shit,” Castiel hears Sam mutter, as the man keeps a gun trained on them both and slips cold handcuffs around Castiel’s wrists. He does the same to Sam, just in time for a woman to come through the trees.

“You’ve found two? Good. There are a few more that we’ve found, and roughly forty bodies so far.”

“Christ,” the man holding onto Castiel and Sam says. “What is going on here?”

Castiel exchanges a glance with Sam, and neither of them say anything.

~*~*~*~

Even with the Sword pumping him up and making him feel full and confident, Alastair is still really fucking fast.

As they clash blades against each other, a sense of rightness fills him. This is what he should have had, years ago when he was under Alastair’s power. He should have been able to fight back, should have been able to stop Alastair using his body against him, abusing and torturing his mind.

He tries to avoid straining against Alastair directly, not wanting to get trapped into a contest of brute strength, since it’s something that he isn’t sure he can win. He tries to get a hit in by darting around the demon, trying to find an opening. He isn’t sure how deep a hit has to be to kill the demon, but he thinks that it’s going to have to be a deep thrust to kill him.

Dean feels his foot slip on a patch of mud and his hit goes wide. Alastair’s eyes gleam as he steps in and grabs his wrist above the Sword, trapping the Sword where Dean can’t use it.

Alastair twists his arm, and to his horror, Dean feels his hand open against his will and the Sword falling to the ground. Alastair slashes at him, and Dean has to pull backwards, ripping his hand out of Alastair’s grasp and probably tearing something in his wrist. Alastair kicks out at his knee, and it buckles under him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“And now, you’re mine,” Alastair says, grinning at him, and his yellow, bloodstained teeth is not the last thing that he wants to see in his life.

Alastair cuts a little into his arm, and Dean turns his head, staring at where he can see the Sword. It’s lying on a patch of grass, and he needs it. _Needs_ it in his hand, _needs_ to hold it, to kill Alastair and to stop him hurting anyone else, ever.

Time slows down. There’s the pain in his arm, yes, but that’s suddenly insignificant compared to the distance between Dean and the Sword. Dean looks at it, _really looks_ at it, and imagines it in his palm, the etched metal cool against his fingers.

And then he’s holding it. It takes him a second to realise that, to see it in his hand and realise that he can fight for himself again, because Alastair had taken the weight off that arm to carve into it with his own blade.

He sees Alastair’s shock a moment before he moves, cutting into the demon’s arm at the cost of Alastair’s blade cutting deeper into his own. He moves the demon enough to get a leg up to kick him away, and then he’s scrambling to his feet, panting and not sure how exactly he’d gotten the Sword, but glad that he could.

“Learned a new trick, I see,” Alastair snarls. Dean can see that he’s in pain though, by the way that he’s holding his arm.

“That’s right. You haven’t seen all I’ve got yet,” Dean responds, cocking his head slightly.

Alastair bares his teeth and lunges forward, Dean blocking his thrust with the Sword and flicking it off to the side. The demon tries to bring his own sword back in, but Dean gets in before Alastair can get his own blade back in towards his body to defend himself.

As the Sword sinks into Alastair’s side, the demon looks shocked, like he doesn’t understand what is happening. Dean keeps his eyes locked with him, seeing the demonic life slowly seep out of his eyes.

He doesn’t feel happy, or satisfied. There’s just the bone deep rightness of a wrong put right, of something twisted in the world being put straight.

Alastair slides to the ground, and Dean stares at him for a few seconds, before there’s a rustle, and people in uniforms come out of the trees, guns pointed at him and yelling at him to drop his weapon.

“Shit,” Dean mutters, as he slowly sinks to his knees and lets them cuff him and take away the Sword.

He doesn’t say anything as he’s dragged back to a few speedboats that are obviously ferrying the cops between the island and the land. The one that arrested him had apparently taken charge of him, pushing Dean where he wants him to go. He sees the Sword in one of the plastic evidence bags, and his fingers twitch. He knows he could summon it to him if he wanted to, he feels like he needs to pull it towards him, but he can’t see the point of it right this second. He’s not going to go to town on these people – they’re probably just doing what they’re told, they don’t understand what they’re doing or what’s actually going on.

He’s deposited in a small interrogation room, somewhere that’s not in the police station. He waits there, alone, for what seems like a day, but is probably only a couple of hours. He’s tired, which is odd – he’s hardly every tired. It must have had something to do with the battle, and retrieving the Sword. It had taken a lot out of him.

They’re probably still getting everything that they can off the island, gathering their first round of evidence. Dean is sure that the island will be off limits to the public for a long time after this while they try to figure everything out.

Finally, the door opens, and a man comes in. Dean focuses on him so he doesn’t have to put even more effort into staying awake. He’s holding a folder, and he sits down heavily in front of Dean. There are dark circles around his eyes and Dean wonders if he’s been sitting here for longer than he’d thought, if his tiredness is justifiable.

“You’re being held on several charges of murder. This is a serious offence, so any information that you give to us will be of more use to you than to us. I’m going not to be here for long, since I have more important things to do, so talk quickly. We were filming when we went through the island, and we have you killing that man on film.” The officer looks down at his notes. “George Edward was your victim, so tell me this. How does George, a family man, with three daughters and a loving wife, get involved in your gang warfare?”

“That’s what you think this is?” Dean asks. It’s the first thing that he’s said since they slapped handcuffs on him on the island. Worry for Sam and Cas is clawing at his insides, but he can’t ask about them if the police didn’t find them. He doesn’t even know if Cas is okay, since the fighting between Alastair and himself had moved away from them as fast as Dean could shift the fight. He hadn’t needed Alastair getting a hold of either of them for leverage against Dean.

The officer looks triumphant at getting Dean to say something. “Well, it’s the only explanation that makes sense. We’ve been hearing some strange sounds from the island over the last few days, and then when we send a camera over, there’s all out warfare going on. Two sides – the suits against everyone else. Although, you were fighting against one of your own, so maybe there’s a third side. We’re not sure, which is why you cleaning everything up for us would be appreciated.”

They hadn’t managed to get his name, which he knew would have pissed them off. He would have told them to contact the SPN unit through the FBI, but they would have demanded to see a badge, which he didn’t have on him. It would only cast more suspicion on him, so he just had to hope that Charlie or Ash sorted everything out on their end, which meant sitting in this room, saying nothing and biding his time. He half smiles at the officer, shifts in his seat, and says nothing.

“The longer you withhold information from us, the lesser your chances are at getting a good deal.”

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Now, I have some photos for you. If you could identify the people in them, their names, if you were fighting against them or not, any information you could provide could be helpful to you.”

Dean purses his lips as he starts laying out photos on the stainless steel table between them. Dean thinks that the first few are angels, and he even recognises one of the angels that he had killed. But he doesn’t do anything until the tenth photo is upturned, fists clenching where they’re chained to the table, jaw tightening as he looks at the head shot.

“Do you know him?” He asks. Dean shoots a filthy look at him, leaning back in the chair.

“Are all these people dead?” He asks, seemingly unable to stop the question leaving his mouth, lips disconnected from his brain.

“Yes,” the officer says, and Dean takes a deep breath in. They had all known the odds, and they had all accepted them. Bobby had known what he had been getting into, and yet, Dean had been the one to ask him to come. He closes his eyes for a few seconds.

“Do you know him?” He asks again.

“He was my foster father,” Dean says gruffly.

“Where is your real father?” The officer says. Dean flattens his mouth and the officer looks slightly abashed.

He keeps laying the photos out, Dean’s heart in his mouth as he waits for someone else that he knows to be laid out on the table, as they’re probably laid out in a sterile room somewhere, cold and alone.

Ash’s face appears, Dean’s stomach dropping when he sees him, laughing eyes now closed forever. The officer pauses for a second when he reveals Ash’s photo, but Dean keeps a straight face and he keeps flicking photos out. Annie and Victor appear together, and he has to close his eyes for a few seconds when he sees them.

There are a lot of them. Just by looking, Dean can pretty much tell who was demon and who was angel, but there are some that he can’t be sure of. He only sees one of Madison’s werewolves that he recognises. Isaac’s photo comes up, and Dean sighs softly.

Cas isn’t among them. That feeds his hope of him being alive, and when there are no more photos, he lets out a breath of relief. Ellen isn’t there either, which leads him to think that she’s still alive at a hospital somewhere.

“Could you please identify any of these people,” his interrogator asks. Dean lifts an eyebrow and doesn’t say anything, which doesn’t make him happy.

“I don’t think you understand the seriousness of your crimes,” he starts to say again.

“I understand,” Dean replies, not wanting to hear his tirade again. “And I’m not saying anything.” He doesn’t need to get shuffled somewhere Charlie couldn’t easily extract him from, and he’s sure that a mental hospital is one of those places.

The officer scowls at him, and then gets up and leaves, the door slamming behind him loudly. Dean looks at it for a few seconds before looking back at the neatly laid out photos.

Even though he’s sure he’s being filmed, he awkwardly tries to reach for the photos of those that he knows. Ash’s is just out of reach, but he retrieves Isaac’s and Bobby’s easily enough, separating them from the rest. Annie and Victor are where he can’t grab them either, but he makes a mess of the other photos trying to touch them. He can’t bring himself to care about the angels and demons, or even the families and loved ones of their hosts. The pictures of his family don’t deserve to stay among angels and demons for the rest of their existence.

Then he puts his head down on his hands and waits.

~*~*~*~

“Rufus, they’re imprisoned now,” Charlie bites out. She had managed to get out the local forces grasp by flashing her badge, but they’re pressuring her for an explanation, and the longer she stays around, the harder it’s going to be to avoid them.

“I know, but I can’t do anything about it until I have the authority to,” Rufus says.

Charlie resists the urge to punch something. “The longer we wait, the harder it’s going to be to get them out of there!”

“Charlie, the only people who are under my supervision besides you and Jo came off that island in body bags.” Rufus sounds pained as he says it, but he still says it.

“You know the others are hunters,” Charlie hisses. “You know they can’t defend anything that they did without explaining it, and they can’t explain it! This is why the unit exists, Rufus.”

“I know that. But I have to convince the others of it. They don’t see it as rescuing people who don’t deserve to be in the position that they’re in, they see it as putting their necks on the line for a bunch of hunters.”

“Well, make them see sense,” Charlie tells him, with what she thinks is a steady voice, but it probably comes out as shaky. Then she hangs up and throws her phone on the bed of the hotel. She runs her hands through her hair and puts some respectable clothes on so she can go down to the station to try and sort all this out. At least get some people released, that they don’t have anything on. She knows that the only way Dean’s getting out is if some serious strings are pulled, and pulled fast. If it gets out to the public, there’s going to be a more serious protest than just closing the reserve the town borders on elicited.

The secretary lets her through with a scowl on his face, and Charlie goes and waits for the sheriff to be free. When she finally is, she comes through to stand in front of Charlie, looking annoyed.

“What do you want now?” She asks huffily. She’s obviously not happy to be entertaining Charlie again, so she puts on her best smile and readies her persuasive voice.

“Sheriff Gladly, I’m hoping to interview some of the criminals.” She always liked it when Charlie called them criminals. “For the FBI, of course.”

“We can conduct our own investigation,” Gladly replies. Charlie doesn’t let the chilly reply affect her smile.

“Of course. But we also want to know what happened. Just to make sure.”

Gladly doesn’t like that, Charlie can tell, but she’s still in the FBI, and she’s just a sheriff, so the whole asking thing is really a formality. She could override her anytime she wanted to, but a good relationship with the locals is always better than barging your way in and demanding stuff. Sometimes they find out things that you don’t, and other times their cooperation can shave a lot of time off the investigation.

Gladly sighs, and then nods. “Fine. There are a few of them down the hall, the ones which we can’t pin anything on yet. Try to get something out of them. There aren’t any voice recordings in the cameras, so anything written would be good.”

“Okay,” Charlie says. She grabs a piece of paper and smiles at the sheriff, who narrows her eyes slightly but doesn’t say anything as Charlie walks towards the back of the police department.

When she rounds a corner, she lets out a sigh of relief. Sam, Cas, Caleb and Tamara are in separate cells, and they all look at her as she walks in. Bill is sitting in the floor of his with his head between his knees.

“Charlie,” Sam says, relieved. “We didn’t know what happened to you. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“And I’m glad you’re all fine,” Charlie starts.

“Is Dean safe?” Cas interrupts, looking at her intently.

“Yeah,” she says, and he slumps back against the wall in relief.

“How is he?” Sam asks.

“He’s fine, apart from the fact that he’s the only one they can prove killed anyone on the island. They caught him on tape stabbing Alastair.”

“The demon is dead?” Tamara asks, tilting her head slightly.

“Yes,” Charlie confirms.

“Did he use Raziel’s Sword?” Cas asks, a worried pinch between his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Charlie says.

“He can’t touch it from now on,” Cas insists. “It’s still using his soul for power. Every second he touches it is another second for it to drain him.

“Shit,” Charlie mutters. “He doesn’t have it now – it’s in evidence.” She sighs. “I’m working to get you all out, but you’re not under Rufus’s jurisdiction anymore.”

“We’re hunters,” Caleb says, affronted.

“What about Jo?” Sam asks.

“She came out with me, but she’s with Ellen at the hospital.” There’s a short silence as they all confront the reality that Ellen probably isn’t going to make it through the next couple of days.

“Sam told us how badly Ellen was injured,” Castiel says gravely. Bill tenses, but doesn’t say anything. Charlie nods.

“Yeah. But I can’t get you guys out just yet. Just don’t say anything, and you should be held here until I can spring you.”

“Got it,” Sam says. Charlie nods.

“Do you know what happened to the werewolves?” Caleb asks.

Charlie shrugs. “They weren’t picked up by the police, and Gabriel isn’t around either, so I’m thinking that they left together.”

“Gabriel would do something like that,” Castiel says softly.

“I can’t stay for long,” Charlie tells them. “These guys are already suspicious of me, since I was on the island when they came over. So just hang on, and I’ll get you out.”

They all nod, and Charlie regretfully turns around and leaves them in their cells.

The police officers all give her the stink eye when she comes out of the cells, but she doesn’t pay them any attention. She wants to go and visit Ellen and Jo, but before she can head over there, her phone rings.

“Agent Bradbury speaking,” she says after answering it.

“Agent,” a woman says on the other end of the line. “You asked me to call if there was any change in Mrs Smith’s condition.”

Ellen. Charlie hadn’t signed her in under her real name, of course.

“Has her condition changed?” She asks, but even as she says the words, her stomach sinks.

“Mrs Smith passed away half an hour ago,” the woman says. Charlie closes her eyes. “Her daughter is here, but I don’t think she’s taking it well. We’re trying to ask her what she wants to do next, but she’s refusing to answer.”

“Okay,” Charlie answers, and she’s proud of the way her voice only tremors. “Okay. Her dad’s coming, so he should be able to sort it out.”

“I was hoping –” The woman starts, but Charlie hangs up before she can say anything else.

“Shit,” she mutters. Dean and Sam are going to blame themselves for this, she knows it. “Rufus, now would be a good time to get everything sorted,” she says, looking at her phone. But it doesn’t ring again, and she’s left with the clinical voice of the nurse telling her that Ellen is gone.

She considers going to see Jo, but she doesn’t think the younger woman will want anyone around, except her father, who Charlie can’t get out because Rufus is still screwing around doing who knows what.

She heads to the one diner in town, ordering a coffee from the waiter who comes by and asks her what she wants. It seems to take a long time to come for a place which only has her and a couple eating lunch in a corner.

Her phone starts buzzing on the table in front of her, and she snatches it up when she sees that it’s Rufus.

“I’ve organised everything,” Rufus starts. “They should be let out when they get told about it.”

“Finally,” Charlie says, relieved. “I’ll call the sheriff right now.”

“Best give her some time to receive her orders and then fume over them for a few minutes,” Rufus advises. Charlie purses her mouth but nods slowly, even though he can’t see it.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Good. Get back here as soon as you can, Bradbury. There’s lots of paperwork to get through, and lots of ruffled feathers to smooth.” Rufus hangs up before she can say anything else. She stares at her phone for a few seconds before stuffing it in her pocket.

She manages to wait for half an hour at a diner, sipping the lukewarm coffee they had given her, before she cracks. She picks up her phone and rings the sheriff’s office, only to be met with a glaring silence when she says who she is.

“Hello, Sheriff Gladly,” she says again, hoping that it will get the other woman to speak.

“Agent Bradbury,” the sheriff answers. She doesn’t sound happy to be getting a phone call from her.

“Have you received new instructions for the prisoners?” Charlie asks tentatively.

There’s another loaded silence.

“Yes,” she says. Charlie closes her eyes and rubs her forehead with her free hand. It can’t be easy, for the sheriff. You have an island full of bodies, and your suspects are all released because someone gave you an order to, on your own turf? That’s got to sting.

“Thank you for helping us in this matter,” Charlie says pleasantly. She can almost hear Gladly gnashing her teeth over the phone.

“We’re glad to aid the FBI in any way that we can,” Gladly answers, voice cold. “We will release the prisoners and they can have a lift to wherever they want in town.”

“Can you tell Sam to meet me outside the one diner in this place?” Charlie says.

There’s a long pause. “Of course,” Gladly answers. “It would be my pleasure.” She sounds like she would rather do anything else.

“Great,” Charlie says, and hangs up. She sighs and pays for her coffee. The doors of the diner swing shut after her, and she looks at the small space outside where cars could park. They others would be here, but she has an errand to run first.

She hadn’t been to where Dean is being kept, but she knows where it is. The nearest prison is a little out of town, and that’s where she goes now.

She talks to the guards and after they ring a few people up, she’s told that she and Dean can leave.

Dean looks up when she enters, a scowl on his face. He’s obviously expecting another officer, but he relaxes when he sees Charlie.

“Finally got your act together?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Charlie replies. She unlocks his cuffs and he immediately sits back, rubbing his wrists. “We have to head back to the station before we meet up with the others. The Sword’s still there.”

Dean nods, and they walk out, the guards staring at them, and even though they’re not going to do anything or keep them there, Charlie still walks a little faster so they can get out of there sooner.

Gladly doesn’t look happy to see them, but she gives them the key to the evidence room after warning them that there’s a camera inside.

“Glad to know that these people are security conscious,” Dean mutters. Charlie snorts and rummages through the bags until she finds the one with the Sword in it.

“Here,” she says, holding out the Sword. It’s still in its evidence bag.

“Thanks,” he says, starting to open the bag.

“Wait!” She says, before he can touch it. “Cas said that it’s still drawing power off your soul. Don’t touch it, and you should be fine.”

“Huh,” Dean says, looking at it. He re-seals the bag and puts the whole thing in his pocket. Charlie lets out a breath.

“Do you know they couldn’t get any prints off it?” She asks him. “Even though they have a video of you holding it, there are no prints on it at all.”

“Really?” Dean asks, looking amused. “It’s probably because nothing sticks to it. Put it in the mud, and it comes out clean.”

She just shakes her head. “Come on. We still have to delete the footage of you killing Alastair, and we can go meet up with the others. They’re out, and heading towards a meeting place now. Probably already there.”

“Awesome,” Dean replies.

He follows her out into the media room. The man in there loads up the video, and reluctantly leaves when Charlie tells him to.

Charlie presses play, and Dean watches as trees go past, and then he’s in front of Alastair, the demon slipping off the Sword.

“I delete this, and all the evidence against you is gone,” Charlie tells him.

“So… That’s it?” Dean asks slowly.

“Not exactly,” Charlie says. She’s already seen it, so she rewinds the video to the point she wants, and then zooms in on one person. The image sharpens, and Dean narrows his eyes at the figure.

Meg is caught on the film as in stride, looking behind her at the ongoing battle. She looks like she’s holding something against her chest, but from this angle, Charlie can’t see what it is.

“She got away,” Charlie says unnecessarily. “Her body wasn’t found, and she wasn’t one of those taken in.”

“She’s not the only loose end,” Dean starts, looking down at the monitor.

“Zachariah is still in Heaven. He would have had to have known about what is happening,” Charlie says. “I mean, he was one of the angels that everyone took orders from, right? He’d have to know if dodgy stuff was happening in his ranks.

Dean nods at her. “And Alastair wasn’t the demon that everyone was taking orders from. Azazel was the demon that he always had to fight for a position under Lilith. Neither of them are here, and they didn’t show up at the fight.”

“So the demons and angels are just beaten off for now, not beaten forever,” Charlie muses. Dean winces.

“I think so.” He sighs. “I don’t want to worry about that right now. Look, I think they’re going to take while to recoup. They have forever, so they’re not going to be any in any rush to deal with me now. They need to figure out what their next move is, and they’re not going to want to have a plan that isn’t perfect. So I think we can have a bit of time to ourselves, to relax.”

If Dean wants to not freak out about this, then she’s not going to make him paranoid. “Okay,” Charlie says. “But if you need any help, then you know where to find me.”

Dean flashes a smile at her. “Can we go?”

“Yeah,” Charlie says. “Do you want to head to the meeting point?”

Dean looks at the screen, and Charlie can almost see the thoughts going through his head. Then he deliberately exits the video, and deletes the file. He stands up, and Charlie follows him out the door of the station.

By the time they get to the meeting point, Dean is noticeably antsy. He’s drumming his fingers against the wheel of the Impala, and looking at the road with a bit too much focus.

“They’ll be here soon,” Charlie says, as they get out and Dean goes to stand next to the road, looking down it as if he could see the car that would bring his brother and lover to him. They should have already been here, but she doesn’t say that. Dean would have figured that out already.

“I know,” Dean comments.

There’s a few seconds of silence as Charlie looks Dean over. She can see the top of the Sword poking out of his pocket and the deep shadows under his eyes. He looks like he’s grieving over Ellen and Bobby, over Annie and Victor and Anna and Ash.

But there’s still a spark in his eyes, and his gaze isn’t looking inward like Charlie’s seen on some traumatised victims. He’s still alive, in every way that matters.

Something in her chest loosens as she realises that.

“So what are you planning on doing next?” Charlie asks him. “Your job is still there, if you want it.” Not that she thinks he’s going to take her up on her offer, but she still has to let him know that it’s there.

“We’re going to drive back to Phoenix, pack up my stuff, and then, I don’t know. I’m not going back to the FBI. I don’t think I belong there anymore, no matter what they do to try and get me back. This time of being away from the office… I’m seeing what I’m missing, seeing what I’ve been doing for the last ten years on the outside. And it’s not the place for me anymore.”

Charlie slowly nods. “Okay. Well, it’s going to be different without everyone there.”

They stand in silence for a few seconds as they think about their losses.

“Cas and I are going to talk it over when we get there. If they ever get here, of course,” Dean says, looking down the street. “When did you say they’d be here by?”

“About now,” Charlie replies. She wonders what’s keeping them.

“Hmph,” Dean says, but just as he turns back, a car turns a corner. Charlie can see Sam in the front seat and the black tuft of Castiel’s hair in the back.

The car pulls up, and Dean turns around. Sam gets out first, and Dean’s there to give him a short hug, hitting each other on the back. Charlie could never understand why guys do that.

But then he turns to Cas, who had just gotten out of the car, and she doesn’t need to be looking at him to know what expression he has on his face.

Dean takes two steps forward and pulls Castiel to him, kissing him thoroughly. Charlie smiles at them, and Sam spots her, walking over to talk to her.

“Caleb and Tamara got dropped off where they could get a ride out of town. I suppose they think that their duty is done here, and that they don’t need to stick around anymore.”

“Well, I think it is done,” Charlie replies. “We got the Sword. If they don’t want to stay here, where they can still feel their personal ghosts, then I’m not going to drag them back or keep them here for longer than necessary.”

Sam doesn’t respond for a while, seemingly thinking that over.

“Where did Bill go?” She asks.

“He went over to the hospital to pick up Jo and decide what they’re going to do with Ellen’s body,” Sam slowly says. He sighs heavily. “I don’t know if we’ll be welcomed at the Roadhouse again anytime soon. They were both angry at us.”

“It isn’t your fault that Ellen didn’t make it out,” Charlie says gently.

Sam nods, but she doesn’t think he’s taken it to heart.

“So you’re going back to DC?” Charlie asks Sam, after some time has passed.

Sam nods. “Yeah. I think I’m due in for a breather. Since there doesn’t seem to be any large problems that need solving right now, I’d like some time with Jess and Alicia.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Charlie says. Sam smiles at her.

“And you? What are you doing now?”

“The same as ever, I suppose,” Charlie replies. “They’re going to need a new core for the new SPN team, and I’m good at what I do.”

“I think Dean’s going to stay out,” Sam says quietly. Charlie nods.

“Well, he told me he isn’t coming back,” she replies. They look over to where Dean and Cas are. They’ve moved on from kissing and are now speaking softly to each other, arms still wrapped around each other. “I think he’s found something new to order his life around.”

Sam grins at her. “Are you going to catch a plane back?”

“Yeah,” Charlie says. “Have you organised a way to get there yet?”

“One of the officers has offered me a lift to the airport. Are you going to come along?”

“Sounds good,” Charlie answers. “When?”

“Now,” Sam laughs. He points towards a man loitering on the corner. “I’m going to go say bye to Dean, yeah? Just wait here a moment.”

Charlie smiles as Sam goes over to extricate his brother from Castiel’s grasp. A buzzing starts from her pocket, and she frowns, fishing her phone out. She stares at the name on the screen.

_Lara_

She can’t help the small smile that spreads across her face as she answers the phone.

~*~*~*~

There’s a moment of peace as the rest of the demons leave their vessels and swarm skywards in a stream of black smoke. Madison takes a deep breath and looks around. There are the shredded naked corpses of the few werewolves who had been able to transform, among them the decapitated body of the Alpha. Madison had dealt the death blow to the Alpha werewolf herself.

Garth is standing with Cullen and Josie. Leli is standing by Elspeth, and the short figure of the archangel is nearby. He’s kneeling over a body, and as much as Madison doesn’t want to deal with whatever he’s going through, she’s not that bad of a person to leave him alone.

So she lets what’s left of her pack deal with themselves and approaches him.

“You okay?” She asks quietly. Gabriel starts slightly, like he hadn’t thought that anyone would approach him.

“I suppose I’m as okay as I can be,” Gabriel says quietly. “These are my siblings. I spent millennia with them, before I left. Just because they thought differently to me doesn’t mean that they deserved to die here. This many angels gone from Heaven will make a large hole in the garrisons.” He sighs. “Maybe it’s time to go back,” the archangel murmurs, probably to himself more than Madison.

“You can do whatever you want to,” Madison tells him. “It’s not like there’s anything keeping you ties to anyone. You’re powerful enough to be whoever you want to be.”

Gabriel keeps staring at the dead angel on the ground for a few more minutes. Then he frowns and looks up.

“I think…” He disappears with a flapping sound, and Madison raises her eyebrows. She starts walking over to her pack, which had gathered together in a small circle. There are only six of them now. It’s not a lot, but it’s something.

Gabriel reappears beside her as she’s walking. She casts a look at him out of the corner of her eye as he starts talking.

“There are human police here. I think it’s best if I transport you all out of here, before they find this place. They probably won’t get that you’re all werewolves.”

“Probably not,” Madison sighs. “Can you give us a lift?” She asks, even though it pains her slightly to.

“Sure,” Gabriel says. “Gather your wolves, and we should go.”

Madison gets everyone to come over to where Gabriel is kicking his toes into the ground. They all join hands and Madison resists the urge to throw up when her feet hit the ground, but also don’t move at all.

“Take care of your wounds,” she tells them, and turns to the archangel. “Thank you.”

Gabriel shrugs. “No problem. Dean got the Sword, so my job’s done. He can take care of it now.”

Madison nods slowly. “Why are you here?” She asks.

Gabriel tilts his head at her. “To make sure that my older brother’s Sword went into hands that he’d approve of, of course.”

“No, not fighting,” Madison says. “Why are you _here_? Helping me and my pack? I thought you didn’t like us.”

Gabriel stares at her until she starts to get uncomfortable. “Why did you accept my help, even though you don’t like me? I could have transported you to a few kilometres above the ground, or dumped you into an active volcano. And yet here we are, safe in a little field in the middle of Mississippi.”

It’s Madison’s turn to stare. She narrows her eyes when the obvious conclusion comes to her. She trusts Gabriel. Damn it.

The archangel smirks at her. “That’s what I thought.”

A few minutes pass as Madison watches trucks and cars speed along a road bordering the edge of the field. She sighs softly as she realises that it’s over. She doesn’t owe Dean anything anymore, and he doesn’t owe her. They shouldn’t be moving in the same circles anymore, and as long as Madison can keep her pack under control, they’re not making the news or attracting the attention of any hunters. They’re free.

“So what now?” She asks, looking up at the clear sky. There’s a kestrel circling, probably trying to spot it’s dinner in the field.

Gabriel casts a cocky smile at her. “You don’t get it yet, do you? Maddie, you killed the Alpha. That means that _you_ are Alpha now.” Gabriel summons a chocolate bar out of thin air and unwraps it while she stares at him. Gabriel looks up at her, and his smile fades, replaced by something more serious. “You can do _whatever_ you want to.”

Madison looks over to where the remains of her pack are sitting on a log. Elspeth is bandaging up a wound in Josie’s leg, and Cullen is taking care of the bite wound in Leli’s arm. Garth is talking to them and pressing gauze to his own large wound, dealt by one of the silver daggers that had been so prevalent on the battlefield. He had refused to be tended to until everyone else had been looked after. She smiles slightly and turns back to the archangel.

“But…” She trails off. The space which had held Gabriel a few seconds ago is empty. The only evidence of his presence is the chocolate bar wrapper on the ground among the long grass. She picks it up, and sees the message scrawled inside.

_I’m sure we’ll come across each other sooner or later, so don’t forget me when we do. Don’t worry about what’s going to happen next. You have the world at your feet. – G_

Madison reads the note twice, and then begins to grin. She looks over at her family, her pack. They haven’t noticed that the archangel is gone, but they would soon. Gabriel is right. The world is at their feet, and she intends to take full advantage of that.

She throws her head back and laughs.

~*~*~*~

“Are you sure about this?”

Dean looks up at Cas. He’s looking worried, a small crease between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I am. I’ve done my time here. I’m not chaining myself to the life here forever. It’s time to leave.” He stands up and kisses Cas softly. The former angel is still looking worried, but it looks less than a few seconds ago.

“If that’s what you want to do,” he says doubtfully.

“It is what I want to do. I’ve got some money stashed away, so we don’t have to worry about that.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Dean sighs softly and loops his arms around Cas. He presses their foreheads together and looks at him. “Cas, I’m sure about this. I need a career change. I’ve done my time here, done my time with the government. I’ve found more important things than the job to care about.”

Cas’s arms sneak up to wrap around Dean’s neck. There’s a small smile on his lips and Dean kisses it gently.

“I’m ready to go if you are,” he continues.

“What would I have here?” Cas asks him, clearly amused. “The only thing I need is in my arms.”

“Jeez Cas, even you have to know that sounds corny,” Dean replies, but he can’t keep himself from smiling.

“Even so, it’s true,” Cas whispers. He kisses Dean, and Dean tightens his arms, bringing Cas closer.

There are a few bags by the door. He isn’t bringing anything they won’t need for a life on the road – all of the furniture is staying here. He’s either packed anything supernatural, or given it in to Rufus. Dean is sure that the head of the office is still in denial about him leaving for good.

“Cas, I’m sure about this,” Dean says softly. “Never been surer of anything else in my life. This isn’t the place for me anymore. Maybe once it was, but not now.”

Cas keeps looking at him, and then he nods. “Well then what are we waiting for?”

Dean quirks a smile at him and pulls him out the door, picking up his bags and putting them outside the door. Cas watches him pull his keys out and slowly lock the door, the click sounding like the ending of a story, of the start of a new chapter in his life.

The next breath that he lets out is a little shakier.

Cas takes his hand silently and Dean smiles unsteadily at him.

“I want to go say goodbye to Chuck,” Dean says. “Just leave the stuff here, we can see it from outside his apartment.

They head down the hall, and Dean knocks on Chuck’s door. It opens quietly, and Dean narrows his eyes in confusion at the sight before him.

“Are you moving out as well?”

There are a multitude of boxes behind Chuck. The man himself is the most respectable that Dean has ever seen him, dressed in a white button down shirt and black trousers. Dean can’t see anything unpacked in his apartment.

“There’s no need for me to be here anymore,” Chuck says, smiling softly.

“Um, okay,” Dean says. “Where are you going?”

“Where are you going?” Chuck asks in return.

There’s a few seconds of silence between them as Dean tries to figure out what’s going on. “Cas and I are just going to cruise around,” he eventually says. “Not really going anywhere.”

“And yet you have the possibility of going everywhere.” Chuck looks at Cas. “You made the right choice, Castiel. I’m happy for you.”

Dean tenses up. How does Chuck know Cas’s full name? He doesn’t have any weapons on him, but he can summon Raziel’s Sword to him if he needs it. His fingers curl up slightly, but when he looks at Cas, he isn’t looking threatened at all.

Cas looks awed, and then he bows his head. “Thank you, Father.”

Dean half chokes on nothing as Cas pulls him by the hand back down to his door. Dean hears Chuck’s door close behind them. Cas drops his hand and picks up two of his bags to give to Dean, taking the small suitcase by its handle and wheeling it down towards the lift.

“What…” Dean trails off, as the doors ping open. Cas smiles at him as they get in.

“Maybe you were not as alone as you thought, Dean,” he says.

“If you say ‘He works in mysterious ways,’ I think I will punch you.”

Cas is glowing, happiness radiating from him. Dean just shakes his head, thinking about how weird his life is. At least the in laws don’t mind him.

They load the boot of the Impala and then get in the front. Dean’s already arranged for an auction, and Charlie had promised that she would make sure everything went smoothly with it. The red haired woman had elected to stay with the FBI, and Dean thinks that it’s probably got more to do with Lara still working there than anything else.

“So,” Dean says, looking over at Cas. “Where do you want to go?”

Cas smiles, looking out the front windscreen of the Impala. “Anywhere we want to,” he replies. Dean huffs out a laugh and leans over to kiss him.

“Alright,” Dean says when he pulls back. “Anywhere it is.”

They drive out of the underground parking with the first strains of _Stairway to Heaven_ coming out of the sound system. Dean smiles at how fitting the song is right now, and takes a hand off the wheel to twine his fingers with Cas’s.

They’re not done climbing this staircase yet, but the hard work they do now is going to make getting to the top even sweeter.

Everything would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys... we're nearly there.


	20. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it. The end. I can’t believe that one year ago today, I posted the first chapter of this. It’s been a wild ride, but it’s something that I’m going to look at fondly for the rest of my life. 
> 
> I can't believe that this is over. This fic has been my baby for the last year and a half, when I started it in the 2013 Nano. And now it's done. It's a lot longer than I'd originally planned for, but I think that this is just right for everything that happened. I'm happy with it. 
> 
> This chapter is actually inspired indirectly by Inferification, and something that she said to me. If she hadn't made me have this idea, the fic probably would have ended last chapter, or at least this would have been very different. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading :D

At five years old, Alicia Rose Winchester is learning to see through her uncle’s bullshit.

“I _don’t wanna!_ ” She exclaims, pouting at Dean.

“Al, you have to. We’re surprising your mum and dad. You want to surprise them, don’t you?” Dean cajoles, trying to convince his oldest niece to hide behind her couch and jump up to surprise Sam and Jess for their anniversary.

Behind them, Cas chuckles softly. He has Anna suckling away at a bottle in his lap, and Robert is sleeping behind him in the other room in his cot.

“You’re against someone who’s as stubborn as you are, Dean. I think you need to give up.”

Dean turns his head to look at Cas. Dean can feel his mouth curling into a small smile without his consent when he meets Cas’s eyes, which are warm and soft.

“I don’t know about that,” Dean proclaims. “I can convince her.”

“No you cannot,” Alicia announces right back, crossing her arms and glaring at Dean. “I don’t wanna hide behind the couch. There could be spiders!” She squeals, running to Cas. She jumps up next to him and cuddles into his side. Cas smiles at her and wraps an arm around her waist to bring her closer in a hug.

“Well, I can see who the favourite uncle is,” Dean pouts, letting himself fall back to lie on the ground and stare at the ceiling. He sighs loudly, trying to get a rise out of Alicia or Cas, and tries to look as mopey as he can.

He can almost see Cas’s eye roll. “Yes, Dean, I wonder why,” Cas says, amused.

“Cas is best uncle,” Alicia says into Cas’s armpit. Cas smiles down at her, and Dean feels himself warm at the sight of his lover covered in children.

The sound of the lock in the front door turning over echoes through the house.

“Last chance!” Dean says, hopefully looking at his niece.

“Nuh-uh,” Alicia tells him.

“I suppose that it just wasn’t to be,” Dean says, turning over and looking at the entrance to the lounge, where Sam and Jess appear after a few seconds.

They’re both dressed up – Sam is wearing a tuxedo and Jess has a long, purple dress on. It looks good on her.

“Kids still awake at this time of day!” Jess exclaims.

“Mummy!” Alicia shrieks, running towards Jess. Jess picks her up, not caring for the dress, smiling at her oldest child. “Mummy, Uncle Dean wanted to hide behind the couch where there are spiders.”

“I hope you told him he was being crazy,” Jess says, smiling down at Dean.

“Hey, I wanted to surprise you guys,” Dean tries to defend himself. “Cas, help me here, I’m feeling picked on.”

“Even he can see that your adventurous spirit sometimes gets out of hand,” Sam interjects. He plucks Anna off Cas’s lap and she stirs before blinking open her eyes and recognising her father. She settles again, and Sam runs a hand over her head gently.

Alicia nods vigorously, and even Dean has to laugh at that. They all quiet when a wail comes from the next room over. Cas gets up quickly and heads into the other room to soothe Robert.

“You woke Rob up,” Alicia tells them gravely. The decision to shorten Robert’s name to Rob instead of Bobby was something that they had all unanimously and silently agreed upon.

“Yeah,” Dean says. He hauls himself to his feet and follows Cas into the next room over.

Cas has Rob in his arms and is humming to him quietly when Dean stops in the doorway. His lips are shaping words in a language that no human has ever been proficient in, and that even Dean can’t quite understand, even though he’s been learning it for five years. He listens closely for a few seconds until he picks out the words to an old blessing that angels used to give each other. Dean approaches them slowly and wraps an arm around Cas’s waist to pull him in for a kiss. In the pause of the blessing, Rob starts crying again, and Cas breaks away to continue murmuring to him.

“Dean, don’t kiss Cas in front of Rob,” Jess chides from the doorway. “He doesn’t need to be exposed to your gross cuteness for another few years, and that’s when he can’t ignore it anymore.”

Dean huffs out a laugh, and Cas hands Rob over to Jess, who starts to rock him back to sleep. She smiles at them as she calms Rob. “It’s late. You should both go. Thanks so much for watching over the kids,” she says quietly.

“No problem,” Dean says, at the same time that Cas says, “Anytime.”

Jess cracks a smile at them and they walk out to where Sam has just come back from putting Anna to bed. Dean hugs Sam, and then gets down on a knee to hug Alicia.

“Thank you for looking after us,” Alicia says, very formally. Dean winks at her.

“Did your dad put you up to that?” He asks confidentially. Alicia looks up at Sam, who is saying goodbye to Cas, and nods.

“He said that it would be polite to say it.”

“Well, he’s right about being polite – it’s one of the ways you can get around in the world. Be polite to everyone, and you can get away with anything,” Dean confides. “Master the talent.”

Alicia nods and Dean kisses her forehead. They say goodbye to the two of them at the door, and Dean catches Cas’s hand on the way down to where the Impala is parked at the end of Jess and Sam’s long driveway.

The trip back to their place is quieter than normal, which probably has something to do with the late hour. It takes a shorter amount of time than it usually does to get home, and it’s not too long before Dean stops the Impala in the secure parking under their apartment.

They take the lift up to the fifth floor, Dean having an arm hooked around Cas so that they’re pressed up together. It’s only half because of the chill of the February weather, and more because he wants to have Cas up against him. Cas sighs quietly and leans his head on his shoulder as the lift comes to a stop, and Dean gently pulls him down the hall to their door. It doesn’t take long until Dean has the keys out and the door unlocked, and he pushes Cas in first, pulling the apartment door closed behind him.

Raziel’s Sword has pride of place opposite the doorway – has always had it, ever since they had brought the small apartment. It had been the first thing that Dean had brought in. He had drilled the shelf in the day after the payment had been finalised, and had put the Sword up on a makeshift stand as soon as that was done. He hasn’t touched it since, in almost three years.

As always when he passes the Sword, Dean pauses for a second to remember all of the people who had died in the battle to retrieve it. Ellen, Annie, Bobby, Ash, Victor... too many. Cas comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, head poking over his shoulder.

“I can still remember them all,” Dean says softly. “Still remember how they died.”

Cas kisses the back of his neck softly. “I know,” he murmurs. “I know.” Cas tugs him backwards, away from it, and Dean goes with him willingly. He’s let go of his guilt about the deaths of his friends, but he still grieves over them. Still thinks about them, years later.

They still hunt, sometimes. If something comes up in the papers, Dean will take Sam out for a weekend away from their normal lives. Sometimes Cas will help out, but most of the time he doesn’t, and when he does help, it’s with the research. Dean thinks that hunting reminds Cas of what he once was, too much. Dean would give it up for him if Cas pushed for it, but some things have just been hardwired into him from when he was young, and hunting is one of them. He knows that Cas understands.

He keeps in contact with all of his friends and former colleagues regularly. Garth had married Bess a year ago, and from the soppy descriptions that Dean gets via email, they’re ridiculously in love with each other. He’s still running around with Madison, and from what Dean’s been able to piece together, the pack’s getting pretty big. He’s still her second in command, and Dean thinks that running most things for Madison is good for him. Keeps him on his toes.

Charlie is still working for the FBI. After everything had gone down, Dean had tried to convince her to leave, but she had chosen to stay on with them in Phoenix. Whenever Dean feels like heading back to the old stomping grounds – which isn’t often, but still does happen, he stays with her and Lara. Pamela and Missouri always make sure that he visits when he’s down there, and it’s something that he looks forward to, maybe once a year. Charlie and Lara are still going strong, and Dean knows that Charlie’s thinking of proposing. He’d been subjected to her panicked rants over Skype more than once, calming her down from when she got freaked over the thought of Lara saying no. He hadn’t told her that Lara is searching for a perfect ring, and that when she finds one, she’s going to propose first. Dean and Cas have a bet going over who will ask the big question.

Jo had quit her job with the government, and is now running the Roadhouse with her father. It had been a decision that Dean had argued with her about for a few months, before she had huffily told him that it was her life and that she’s going to live it. There was nothing that Dean could say to that, no matter how much he thinks it’s the wrong choice for her or how much Ellen would be turning over in her grave at the thought of Jo running her bar instead of having a stable job with the FBI. At least Dean knows that she doesn’t hunt anymore, although the Roadhouse is still open to hunters, and the news board still operates on a daily basis.

Cas pulls him into the bedroom and Dean brushes his teeth while Cas drinks a glass of water and puts a few things away in the bedroom. The former angel is a complete neat freak, which amuses Dean on a near daily basis. When Dean’s done, he takes his clothes off and wriggles under the covers of the bed. Cas goes and brushes his teeth, which leaves Dean to watch his shadow on the door that separates their room from the bathroom.

He and Cas had eased into this new life that they have here. It hadn’t come quickly, that’s for sure. For a year after that final clash between both sides, Dean hadn’t been able to settle anywhere. Cas had helped, but they had still travelled, not staying anywhere for longer than it took to complete the case in that town. Dean had been haunted by his friend’s deaths, and it had taken Cas to finally bring him out of it. Dean huffs slightly just thinking about it, shaking his head slightly.

They had been in North Dakota, and Cas had insisted that they go to Bobby’s place, that they see how the property was doing. Bobby had left the property and everything on it to Dean, but he hadn’t had to heart to go back there yet.

“Dean, you need to see it sometime,” Cas pushed. Dean looked at him and then away.

“Not yet, Cas. I will but… not yet.”

“Then when?” Dean didn’t reply. The sky had been blue, with not a cloud in sight. But it still couldn’t match the blue of Cas’s eyes when Dean looked down to meet them.

“Later,” Dean insisted.

“No,” Cas replied. “Now.”

Dean pursed his lips, but Cas had that look on his face that Dean knew meant that he wasn’t going to drop it. “Fine,” he muttered. “We’ll go now.”

Cas had nodded and they had set off towards where Dean had spent a good portion of his childhood, first when John hadn’t had any place for them to stay cheaply or was out of money, and then on frequent trips throughout the year that Ellen and Bill had organised.

Dean still hasn’t heard from his father. A part of him thinks that John must be dead, but there’s a larger part that insists that the son of a bitch is probably fine. Dean hasn’t seen him since he was a teenager, and he’s fine with that. He’s got no illusions about John – not anymore.

As they rolled through the rusted gate at the front of Bobby’s property, Dean took in the junk yard of cars and the familiar, aching house. He didn’t need to go inside to know that it was different, but he had done so anyway. Cas had been silent beside him, and Dean had been grateful for that. He didn’t thought he could take any speaking as he unlocked the front door.

Dean’s first thought upon entering the house was _dust._ He sneezed as the movement of the door sent a cloud of it up and made his eyes water. As he wandered through the rooms silently, he could sense the deep differences that Bobby’s presence had had on the house. Where before it had loomed, gruff and welcoming, just like the man inside, now there was a desolate loneliness to the place that had Dean’s eyes watering form more than the dust.

He had come to a halt in the living room. There, on the table, had been a letter. It too was covered in dust, but Dean could make out the _Dean_ on the front scrawled in Bobby’s messy hand.

He had slowly picked it up, and then wiped the dust off. Cas hadn’t moved from the door way, although Dean could feel his eyes on his back. Instead of feeling nervous, he only felt secure. Cas would be there for him, no matter what.

The letter hadn’t been long. To the point was Bobby’s style, and that’s what the letter had been.

_Dean_

_Boy, it’s been a long journey. From what Ellen tells me, there’s not much chance of you or your angel coming back, let alone an old hunter like me. So I’m leaving you the house, just to make sure that you’ve got somewhere to go when you uproot your life at Phoenix and go wandering._

_Don’t blame yourself for whatever happens to Ellen or Bill or I. We know the stakes, and it’s a game that we’re willing to play._

_And keep hold of that Castiel – he’s good for you._

_Bobby_

Dean read the letter three times before slowly putting it back on the table. Cas had come up behind him, and as soon as he touched Dean, Dean collapsed into him, crying for Bobby and Ellen, crying for Anna and Ash and Annie, letting his grief out from where it had been bottled up inside him.

They had started cleaning up the house the next day. It gave both of them a purpose – Dean dusted and vacuumed while Cas went through Bobby’s books, sending the useful ones to Sam to keep safe. In under a month it was habitable once more, and Dean was deciding whether or not to sell it.

He’d been running his fingers over Bobby’s letter, now worn with how many times Dean had read it. Cas had come up behind him, and Dean had turned to look at him.

“Let him go,” Cas whispered. “Let them all go, Dean. You can do it. I know you can.”

Dean looked down at the letter in his hands. “I don’t want to forget them,” he had mumbled.

“And you won’t,” Cas said quietly. “But forgetting and letting go are two different things, Dean. You won’t forget, but you can let go.”

And so Dean had. He had organised to sell Bobby’s block of land, only taking the things that would be suspicious to others and the small things of Bobby’s out, leaving the rest. When it had been sold to a couple with a young daughter, Dean had approved.

The entire thing had taken a few months. When Dean suggested that they stop by DC to check up on Jess, Sam and Alicia, Cas hadn’t protested.

They’d stayed a month in their house before Jess told them that they needed to get their own place. Dean and Cas had conferred among themselves, but they had both wanted to stay in DC for the birth of the new baby, and so they had gone apartment hunting. Though quietly unstated, it had been agreed that both thought that staying in DC for the foreseeable future might turn into just saying in DC, so they bought the apartment that they could live in for the next thirty years.

Dean hadn’t regretted the decision. Their apartment is perfect for them.

The first time he’d been alone in it by himself, it had still been empty. There were boxes full of things to be unpacked, but he didn’t feel like opening any of them. He had been wandering around, getting used to the feel of the place, when he had heard the soft rustle of feathers behind him.

He had spun around, hand twitching, getting ready to call the Sword to himself. But it had only been Gabriel, smiling that annoying smirk of his, so Dean had relaxed. Slightly.

“Cas isn’t here,” he said, in case the archangel is looking for him. Samandriel had come down a few times for advice on how to run his shiny new garrison. From what he and Cas had guessed, a massive upheaval had gone through Heaven, although Samandriel hadn’t been willing to share much of it.

“I know,” Gabriel said, and pulled a bar of some sort out of his pocket. “I was hoping to catch him, though. Where’d he go?”

“He’s getting some food for the apartment,” Dean said. “I’m just watching it.”

“For what?” Gabriel scoffed. “It’s warded up to its ears, and you’ve been here for what, a week?”

“We don’t want anything being able to get inside,” Dean replied.

Gabriel shrugged. “I’m sure that it’s nearly impossible for a demon to get in, but there’s next to nothing in the way of Enochian warding against angels. It’s there for everything else, however.”

Dean shrugged one shoulder slightly. “Cas said that it made him feel constrained, living somewhere where angels weren’t allowed. I didn’t push it. We can both defend ourselves if you try anything.”

“Well, that’s actually what I came to talk about,” Gabriel commented. He pursed his lips slightly. “I don’t have that much free time now, so I’ll just tell you, and trust you can pass the message on to Castiel.”

“What’s going on?” Dean asked.

“Well, in essence, I went home and forced Michael to sort his problems out.” He sighed. “Raphael had been the leader of the sect allied with the demons. We’ve been going through Heaven and finding his supporters, but it’s a long job. We think we’ve got most of them now, though. But that means I have to step up, since Raphael is no longer part of the administrative process. Tedious, but someone has to do it. Zachariah’s been pulled down a few ranks. It annoys him, but there’s hardly anything he can do about it. Michael still isn’t in the mood for much governing though, so…” Gabriel shrugged.

“You’re running Heaven,” Dean said, dumbstruck. Of all the things the archangel could have ended up doing, that was not one Dean would have picked.

Gabriel looked away from him for a second. “Yeah, well I think it’s the right place for me right now. Maybe not in a few hundred years, but right now, it is.”

Dean lifted an eyebrow. “Okay, then. Is that everything?”

“No,” Gabriel said. “I just want you to know that there’s not going to be any angels coming after the Sword. Not in your lifetime, anyway. And I’ve got a few angels stationed around here, just to keep the demon activity down. Nothing should bother you. Can’t have you dying before your time, after all. Then the Sword will be up for grabs again, and I don’t need that kind of drama in my life. You’re going to make things complicated enough for me when you do kick it.”

Dean looked at the archangel for a long time. “Thanks,” he said, eventually. “I appreciate it.”

“I did it for Castiel and myself, not you,” Gabriel said. “If he wants to stay down here, then I’m going to try to make it as painless as I can. I’m not sure that’s possible with you here, but I’ll try to clean up everything else.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, annoyance warring with gratefulness.

Gabriel shrugged. “You haven’t been using the Sword, have you? It will still kill you.”

“As Cas reminds me all the time,” Dean muttered. Gabriel narrowed his eyes and stared at him without saying anything. Dean shifted his weight between his feet as it became more obvious that Gabriel was checking out his soul.

“Hmm,” Gabriel finally murmured.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Well, most of the damage done by the Sword looks like it’s healed up,” he started.

“That was done nearly two years ago,” Dean said, aghast.

“Well, souls heal slowly. But that’s not the interesting part.”

“What is?” Dean asked, not sure if he actually wanted to know the answer.

“The piece of Grace inside you, that Castiel left. It’s gone.”

Dean rubbed the handprint on his shoulder instinctively. “What do you mean, gone?”

Gabriel lowered his eyebrows and stared for a few more seconds. “It must have been how you survived. The Sword used up Castiel’s Grace first, which was the initial energy usage, and then just fed off your soul until you put it down.”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “So he saved my life twice with this,” he said. The handprint on his shoulder had faded, but it’s still clear as to what the scar is.

“It would seem so,” Gabriel mused. “There’s nothing supernatural holding you two together now. Just plain old human connections.” He cocked his head. “I have to get back to Heaven. Tell Castiel I stopped by.”

Later, Dean had wondered why the archangel didn’t just go straight to Cas instead of turning up at their apartment, and appearing when Dean had been alone. But if Gabriel had been making sure that Dean is being good to Cas, then he wasn’t going to complain that his partner had one more protector, even if Cas insisted that he didn’t need them.

Rob had been born soon after that, and Cas had made his decision to take up teaching. With his new degree hanging on the wall, he’s looking for positions to take for the start of the new teaching year. Dean hadn’t completed any further schooling – he’s working at one of the high end restoring garages in the DC area. Sam had managed to get him an interview, since he had worked a case for one of the owners, and after showing them the Impala and the work that he does on her to keep her running, they’d hired him for a trial period. Dean’s still working for them, over two years later.

Cas turns off the light in the bathroom and comes back into their bedroom. He strips off his clothes – _all_ of his clothes, because Cas doesn’t like sleeping with anything on – in the darkness and worms his way under the covers. Dean pulls him towards him, and Cas shuffles forwards into his warmth gratefully.

“You’re not very talkative tonight,” Cas murmurs.

“Just thinking about things,” Dean replies.

“Must be something serious,” Cas says, an undercurrent of amusement in his voice.

“Shut up,” Dean replies playfully, rolling his eyes. He loops an arm around Cas’s waist and kisses him softly.

“Is that how you’re planning to shut me up?” Cas asks him, and Dean thinks that he’s trying to hold in a laugh.

“Maybe,” Dean replies, kissing him again, feeling Cas’s smile under his lips. “You taste pretty good – I could shut you up all night, if you want.”

Cas chuckles softly. “I wouldn’t be averse to it.”

“I dunno Cas,” Dean says light heartedly. “I do want a good night’s sleep…”

“Because that’s so very important to you,” Cas replies, but it’s softer than their other statements.

Dean hasn’t dreamed of his Hell in a few months, now. The dreams come back every so often, and Dean has resigned himself to them. That part of his life, no matter how distant, is apparently never going to let him go. It helps that when he wakes up shaking and cold from dreams, Cas is always there to comfort him. He no longer needs to drink himself to sleep, and all the alcohol he usually has is when he visits Sam. Cas never drank again after that time that Dean got him plastered and left him behind to hunt, and so there’s nearly no spirits in their apartment.

“A little,” Dean says, but then he rolls over on top of Cas. “But not as important as you are,” Dean murmurs in Cas’s ear, licking at it softly. Cas lets out a shaky breath and Dean kisses his mouth softly. The swipe of lips against each other changes into something fiercer between them, and then Cas rolls them over. He straddles Dean, breathing already slightly laboured as he sits upright. Dean locks eyes with him, and he can see the shine of them even in the darkness around them. Dean moves a hand to Cas’s hip and strokes his thumb across it gently as Cas leans down to kiss him. Dean knots a hand in his hair, but Cas doesn’t stay up at his lips for long, moving down to suck at Dean’s neck. Dean sighs and leans his head back, fingers massaging Cas’s head as Cas bites his neck lightly.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Cas murmurs into his skin. Dean pulls at his hair slightly as Cas licks at a nipple. “Let me do all the work. You can lie there and enjoy it,” Cas tells him.

Dean groans as Cas finds one of his favourite spots on his stomach. Cas doesn’t normally take control, and when he does, it’s in Dean’s best interests to do what he tells him to. Cas takes what he wants from him, and in that taking, gives part of himself. It’s something that both of them appreciate.

Cas fastens his mouth on a piece of skin and starts sucking on it, bruising Dean’s skin and making a small mark where his mouth is. Dean lets out a small breath as he moves lower. A hand comes up to scratch lightly at the skin of his thigh as Cas presses his mouth against Dean’s stirring interest through his boxers.

Dean props himself up on his elbows so he can watch as Cas starts rubbing his face against his growing erection. When Cas looks up though, he stops to crawl back up Dean and press him back down onto the bed.

“I said,” Cas murmurs, voice husky and low and going straight to Dean’s cock. “Stay where you are.”

Dean brings a hand up to rest at the back of his neck and pulls Cas down into a kiss. Cas stays there for a few seconds and then breaks it off, leaning back up to look down at Dean critically. Dean swallows as a smirk lifts the edge of Cas’s mouth and then he’s back between Dean’s legs, so very slowly pulling his shorts down. Dean bites his lip to stop himself from making any noise as the fabric slides over his dick, sucking in a breath as the cooler air of the room hits it.

Cas licks a line up it from the bottom to the top, and Dean hisses. He manages to get his boxers off entirely, somehow managing to do it even when Cas ducks his head and starts suckling on the head of Dean’s dick.

“Shit,” he mutters, throwing his head back as Cas presses his tongue into the slit on the head. His hands slide down to wind their way through Cas’s hair without Dean consciously deciding to do so, and Cas hums at the touch, which means good things for Dean.

Cas has gotten good at this over the years, so he knows how to lick and when to hum and where he can suck to get just the right noises out of Dean while also keeping him away from his climax. Dean mutters his encouragement and strokes his hands through Cas’s hair and rubs his neck as Cas takes him apart, piece by piece. Cas makes his thighs shake and toes curl, his shoulders bunch up only to have Dean relax them forcibly a moment later. Cas is _good_ at this, and with every glance upwards, he only seems to be reminding Dean of that.

He isn’t sure how long Cas has been sucking him off before he sits up. Dean moans a little at the loss of contact, but he quiets when he sees that Cas is crawling over to the bedside table. He opens the drawer and grabs what he wants, closing it softly and making his way back to Dean.

Dean slides his arms around him as Cas puts his head on Dean’s shoulder so he’s lying on his side. He absentmindedly licks at a nipple before sliding a leg over to cover Dean. Dean lets one of his hands wander down to grab his ass as Cas clicks open the bottle he’d retrieved. He watches through half lidded eyes as Cas coats his own fingers in the thick gel before slowly reaching down to stroke his own entrance. Dean’s stomach gets hotter as Cas nuzzles into him, burying his face in Dean’s neck. Dean kisses his forehead gently as Cas pushes a finger inside his ring of muscles, slowly working himself open.

Dean lets the hand not on Cas’s ass come around to stroke himself distractedly, watching Cas finger himself. He can feel Cas’s breath hot against his neck, Cas panting slightly as one finger becomes two.

Dean moves his hand until it’s pressing against Cas’s opening, feeling the movement of his body and fingers together. He slides his thumb through the extra lube and presses into Cas himself, hearing him moan into Dean’s skin.

“Let me give you a hand,” Dean murmurs, grabbing the lube to give him another shot. Cas hisses as the cold liquid comes into contact with his heated skin, but he wriggles his hips backwards against the fingers pressing into him, so Dean figures he’s okay. He squeezes a trickle of lube down his own dick and then tosses it to the other side of the bed, where it won’t get in the way.

Cas begins rocking his hips into Dean’s side, eyes closed tightly. Dean runs a finger through the lube and then pushes it inside, Cas’s moan loud between them. Dean’s content to just press in deeply, trying to find his prostate, while Cas works himself open. It takes a minute, but then Cas jerks against him, a soft cry falling from his lips. Dean smiles and watches as Cas’s movements get a bit more frantic. Cas brings another one of his fingers up to press into him deeply, his movements slowly slightly as he shudders at the sensation. Dean squeezes his own dick lowly, trying to calm himself down. Cas isn’t helping with his show, getting Dean all hot and impatient.

Cas’s free hand comes up to the back of Dean’s neck, and Dean leans down obligingly to kiss him. Cas’s tongue presses against his lips and Dean responds in kind, muffling Cas’s soft noises with his mouth.

Dean brings both his hands up to cup Cas’s face as they kiss, Cas somewhat preoccupied but still moving skilfully against Dean. When Dean touches his face he leans back.

“You’re getting me all sticky,” he complains, voice only shaking slightly. Dean laughs and wipes the lube off with the sheets.

“I’ll be getting you stickier in a bit.”

Cas rolls his eyes but shifts his weight until he’s sitting on Dean. Dean shivers when he strokes a hand down his cock, and then shuffles back so he’s pressed right up against it.

Cas leans down to kiss him deeply, and when he sits back up Dean tries to follow him, but Cas presses him back down with one hand in the centre of his chest. Dean meets Cas’s eyes and he keeps up the eye contact as Cas reaches around behind him.

Cas lifts himself up and slowly sinks down. They let out a shaky breath in unison, both of them adjusting to the pressure of the other. Dean reaches up to rest his hands on his hips, steadying him. Cas only breaks the eye contact when he bottoms out, eyes fluttering shut as he sighs. Dean strokes his thumbs over Cas’s hips, resisting the urge to move. Cas is hot inside, like always, and it’s stoking the fire in his belly, but he doesn’t want to move until Cas is ready.

Cas rests his hands on either side of Dean and swivels his hips experimentally. He licks his lips and Dean can’t help but follow the motion. Cas smiles at him, and Dean can’t help but smile back, still not knowing why some quirk of the Universe meant that Cas fell (literally and figuratively) into his life, and decided to stay for a while.

Cas’s slow movements gradually turn into faster ones. Dean grips his hips to steady them both, and plants his feet into the bed so he can get some leverage of his own.

“Fuck,” Cas mutters, and he must have hit his own sweet spot. Like always, Cas swearing is one of the fastest ways to turn Dean on, so he gives his hips a particularly sharp thrust. Cas moans, the sound drawn out and unapologetic. Cas is never quiet when they do this, doesn’t care about how he should be looking or how loud or quiet he should be.

“I’ve got you, Cas,” Dean tells him. He pulls Cas down with his hands, even as Dean moves upwards, making Cas keen and bite his lips. The sound of their bodies coming together is loud in the otherwise quiet room, and Dean savours every sound he wrings from Cas’s lips. Cas is flushed, the red from his cheeks staining his neck. Dean can see the shine of his skin where sweat has gathered, how his hair sways with his every movement.

When Cas comes, his head tilts back, showing Dean the long line of his throat. A low whine comes from that throat as Dean feels hot wetness splatter across him. Dean curls his toes in anticipation and chases his edge, biting his lip and pushing into Cas faster, trying to find his own release. Cas clenches down on him, and that’s the last thing that Dean needs. He cries out as he comes deep in Cas, not minding his slowing movements.

Cas collapses on top of him, and Dean listens to their joined panting as they comes down from their high. Dean kisses the edge of Cas’s mouth and Cas moves his head lethargically to kiss him properly.

Cas’s weight gradually becomes too much to deal with, so Dean pokes him in the ribs. “You’re heavy,” he mutters.

Cas sighs but slides off Dean, rolling onto his side. Both of them shudder as Dean slips free of him. Dean slowly reaches over to grab some tissues to clean them both up, which he then promptly chucks on the floor. 

Dean tilts his head so he can look at him. Cas looks blissed out, tired and sated and _happy_.

Dean starts smiling, and Cas smiles tiredly back at him. “What’s that for?”

“You,” Dean says simply. Cas huffs but his smile gets bigger. Dean moves to his side and slings an arm over Cas, feeling his warm skin.

Cas puts his hand on the skin over Dean’s heart. Dean takes his hand and kisses Cas’s knuckles. Cas sighs softly and closes his eyes. Dean lets his endorphins run their course, eyelids drooping slightly. He watches Cas through his eyelashes, his beautiful eyes and face, the dark curls of his hair and the pink flush in his cheeks.

Dean moves his hand slowly up Cas’s back, brushing over the tattoos there. His anti-possession tattoo is in the middle of his lower back, the same size as Dean’s. Across his shoulders and down to his elbows are two outspread wings, the only physical remnants of Cas’s former species, a choice Cas had made soon after they had left Phoenix. They complete him, really. An expression of free will that Cas had decided that he wanted. Dean had supported him every step of the way, helping him figure out what Cas could do with his new life. And Dean will be there as they complete the journey together. It might not be very planned out, it may still take some severe detours in the future. But if Dean knows one thing for sure, he knows that Cas is going to be with him, and that he’s going to be with Cas, as they complete the journey, their footsteps side by side in the sand behind them as a testament to it.

“What would I do without you?” Dean asks softly, hands coming up to cradle Cas’s face.

Cas’s eyes crinkle and he smiles slightly. “You’re never going to have to find out,” he replies.

Dean can’t help but kiss him after that, winding his arms around him snuggly to hold Cas close, right where he belongs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... This is the end of an era tbh. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who supported me in the writing of this ;) 
> 
> [tiger-darling](http://www.tiger-darling.tumblr.com/) has been such a wonderful beta, getting rid of embarrassing mistakes that the world would have seen otherwise. Your support and encouragement really helped :)
> 
> Inferification - your comments on every chapter really made me look forward to posting, and every time I got an email saying you had commented, I made a few (or a lot of) happy noises. You have no idea what those comments mean to me. 
> 
> Mum, thanks for encouraging me, even after you realised what exactly I was writing. I hope you forgive me for the shock of finding *cough* dubious content on my computer. 
> 
> Alyssa, even though you're not in the SPN fandom, you listened to me rant and you helped me think some points through. Your unwavering patience is much appreciated. 
> 
> Mark, you know that one idea you gave me? Well, it changed this entire story. Thanks for that. 
> 
> And thank you to you, if you're still reading this. Thank you for reading, kudoing, bookmarking, commenting. I appreciate every single one of you, and this is for you - the community. I appreciate every single one of you :D


End file.
